The Distraction Reaction
by imsanehonest
Summary: As far as defensive reactions went, The Distraction Reaction was the least effective. The equivalent to throwing the dog a bone when you had a sirloin steak in-hand, any idiot could have told her that it just wasn’t going to work out. Barney/Robin.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: The Distraction Reaction (1/2)  
**Characters**: The Gang, Barney/Robin  
**Word Count**: 6,097  
**Rating**: PG  
**Disclaimer**: Not mine. sniff  
**Spoilers**: Takes place three days after 4x02, "The Best Burger in New York." Spoilers up until then!  
**Summary**: _As far as defensive reactions went, The Distraction Reaction was, decidedly, the least effective. The equivalent to throwing the dog a bone when you had a sirloin steak in-hand, any idiot could have told her that it just wasn't going to work out._  
**Author's Notes**: This was going to be a super-duper multi-chapter fic of epic proportions… Hopefully a two-parter will work out instead? Still pretty new at writing in the fandom and no beta, so any concrit would be most appreciated! Thanks for your time!

--

**THREE DAYS LATER**

Lily was a ticking time bomb of secrets.

It was inevitable. Secrets were like bright shiny things to her. Bright shiny things that made everybody happy and that had to be shared.

The only thing holding her back from exploding in a big bomb of shiny secretness this time around was the fact that this particular secret might not make everybody quite as happy as was typical.

More likely than not, they'd all just find it freakishly disturbing.

So for three days she had done her best to keep her lips zipped and mind preoccupied with other shiny secrets she could share. Like Marshall's childhood dream to be a roller-skating waitress (he liked the skirts), Robin's mustache, Ted's irrational fear of drinking fountains, or the fact that Stella didn't like Star Wars. (If Lily was a time bomb, then Marshal was a trigger-happy poacher during baby seal season.)

Anything would be better than letting everyone know that Barney Stintson was in love.

Honest to God, goo-goo eyed, sweet nothings whispering, pathetically obsessive, love.

It would have been hilarious if it wasn't so terrifying. And if Lily, the understanding member of the group, found Barney's star-struck state scary, Ted would probably jump out of the nearest window.

Hence, she had done her best to keep her mouth shut, no easy task when she couldn't stain a shirt without immediately telling Marshall and asking for his input on the situation.

Barney clearly didn't appreciate what he was asking of her.

Currently, she was contemplating explaining to him how difficult he was making her existence through interpretive smacking as he sat across from her at McLaren's. How dare he sit there so casually, sipping his drink while she suffered silently a few feet away? It was unjust! And wrong! And somebody had better do someth-

Marshall took the seat next to her, totting with him their beers. "So Ted said he had something to tell us?"

Oh God! He could read her thoughts, couldn't he? She quickly stopped scowling at Barney and thought of the time she walked in on Robin shaving. ("I'm Canadian, okay? It's not my fault!")

"Well," Lily fumbled through her purse frantically and pulled out her cell phone. "The text says, 'OMG, need-" she held up two fingers "-2 talk. Get the gang 2gether ASAP. Total emergency.'"

Barney blinked. "Is the emergency that he turned into a fifteen year old girl?"

She glared. "Barney, try to be sensitive. He's obviously going through something here and needs his friends to support him." She sent him a significant eyebrow raise, hoping that he would catch her own need for support.

But he was Barney Stinson, so of course he didn't. "Yeah, right. He also needs his friends to inform him of his sex change, since he clearly hasn't caught on yet."

Lily allowed a begrudging nod.

Ted really was such a girl sometimes.

Marshall frowned next to her. "Hey, where's Robin? Isn't she part of 'the gang.'" He giggled and shifted happily in his seat.

Barney and Lily sent him confounded looks.

He giggled some more. "I always wanted to be a part of a gang."

At their less than understanding glances, Marshall coughed and straightened up in his seat, adopting a voice about two octaves bellow his giggles. "But where is she?"

Lily grinned. She loved it when Marshall pretended to be all manly.

Not that he wasn't manly. Most of the time. Or at least in bed, which was where she guessed it really mattered

… But that was neither her nor there.

Lily shrugged. "Said she had something to do for work."

Barney took a big swing from his drink and snorted dramatically. "Peh, Robin. Who cares about her anyway? We don't need Robin. She's not cool. Or awesome. Or bea-"

Lily kicked him under the table.

"Befuddled gods! I need another drink." Like a shot he was out of his seat and at the bar, only slightly frantic and with a charming new limp.

Lily eyed the display sadly. He really did have the love bug bad, didn't he?

Next to her, Marshall tilted his head and considered their friend with the inquisitive eye he got when he was making sense of things. "Have you noticed anything strange about Barney lately?"

"No!" She shouted instantly. "Nothing!" She sipped her beer and tried not to notice how a large portion of it sloshed onto the table. "So Stella doesn't like Star Wars?"

Marshall's eyes widened. "Dammit, Lily, I thought I evoked the forget-it-when-you-hear-it clause!" He crossed his arms and stared sternly at her. "And don't you think your violation of that bond made me forget the point of this little discussion." He rolled his eyes. "Like the Distraction Reaction is going to work on me."

"Stupid nervous tick," Lily muttered, trying not to pout.

As far as defensive reactions went, The Distraction Reaction was, decidedly, the least effective. The equivalent to throwing the dog a bone when you had a sirloin steak in-hand, any idiot could have told her that it just wasn't going to work out.

Why then couldn't she stop using the stupid thing?

"So," Marshall leaned forward onto the table and all but bounced in his seat – just like a dog about to get his steak. "What's up with Barney, huh?"

She felt her internal bomb tick closer to detonation.

Lily shifted uncomfortably and shot a nervous gaze around the room. "Forget-it-when-you-hear-it clause activated?"

Marshall nodded with such enthusiasm that she was surprised his neck didn't fall off. "Affirmative."

He was such a gossip.

She leaned forward, giving the room another look, and whispered, "Barney's in love with Robin."

And the bomb went boom.

Marshall jerked back from her and gasped, mouth hanging agape. "What-?!"

Just as Ted appeared in the bar and approached the table.

Lily gave another under-the-table kick and Marshall's mouth snapped closed as he turned to face his friend. "-is the problem, Ted?"

**TWENTY MINUTES LATER**

Barney couldn't believe the words that were flowing from Ted's mouth to his ears.

"She doesn't like Star Wars?"

It just didn't make any sense. Somewhere, a universe was imploding at the mere possibility of a person, anywhere, being unable to comprehend the brilliance of the most fantastic franchise to grace the galaxy. Ever.

Ted threw up his arms in equal astonishment. "I know, right?"

Barney shook his head sadly. "Man, I was going to mock you for your girly text messaging-"

"But I was panicked!" Ted slumped back into his seat at the head of the table, awash with despair. "I mean, finding out something like this-"

Barney patted his friend's shoulder in sympathy. "Absolutely, girly text-atude would happen to any man." Which was a lie, obviously. Girly texting as a symptom of one's soul being crushed? Please. But after a blow like this, a guy needed some understanding. Even if it was fake understanding. "Hey! Maybe this means that your balls haven't actually turned into ovaries!" Even Barney's benevolence could only go so far. "Yet."

Ted rolled his eyes and turned to the two sacks of lifelessness on the other side of the table. "Lily, Marshall?"

Lily perked up slightly. "Hm?"

"You guys don't look surprised."

"Shock," Marshall choked out.

Did Barney imagine the small mountain of a man sending him a horrified glance?

"Right, the shock! Still sinking in." Lily agreed quickly. "I mean, who doesn't want a light saber after watching that movie?"

Ted nodded, accepting the plausibility of such a reaction.

Seriously. Light sabers were awesome.

Barney's best friend cradled his head in his hands. "It's not even that she didn't like it that gets to me guys, it's that she lied. What made her feel that she couldn't tell me the truth?" He looked up at the table. "I could've have taken it."

"I couldn't have." Barney stared straight ahead in horror. "I would have cried, finding out the woman I was about to marry didn't love Han Solo." He turned to Ted. "If Han couldn't steal her heart, what chance could I have?"

Ted placed his head in his hands once more. "I know, I know!"

Suddenly there was a flurry of movement, he was gently nudged aside, and she (the only she that really mattered) was there.

"Sorry I'm late, guys," Robin said as she flopped down in what had been Barney's seat. "Ted, your text seemed… frenzied."

(Barney tried not to notice the way she smelled, or how her leg was brushing against his on the bench.)

Ted looked up at her helplessly. "I found out that Stella doesn't like Star Wars."

"Oh," she remarked blandly.

(She was wearing a red coat. It looked great on her. It would look great off her too. In fact, Robin might look best without clothes.)

Upon seeing the table's collective heartbroken face, she corrected herself. "I mean, ohhh!" She shook her head. "That's terrible, Ted. _Really_ terrible."

Out of the corner of his eye Barney saw Lily and Robin exchange an eye roll before they returned their attention back to Ted.

(Her hair was wonderful, the way it moved when she turned her head. He remembered how soft it felt between his fingers, almost silky. Maybe he should touch it again, for a refresher and the sake of the science and all that good crap.)

He really was sick, wasn't he?

Robin gave her full attention to Ted. "What're you going to do?"

"Get another drink!" Barney declared as he stood up from the bench. He looked down to his still-filled glass and quickly downed the remaining liquid.

He had to get away from her. She was clearly doing something to him. Something… _unnatural_. "I am going to get another drink." He nodded at everyone's perplexed glances. Except for Marshall, who still seemed a little shell-shocked.

Star Wars. It was a powerful thing.

"Yep. That's what I'll do."

He headed to the bar.

"I'll come with you."

Blast! Why was she determined on making every moment of his life a shadow of its formerly awesome self? He ate, but he didn't taste the food. He slept, but only dreamt of her. He had sex, but it wasn't nearly as much fun as it was supposed to be. She had destroyed all things awesome in the life of Barnitude.

It was like she had neutered him.

He shuddered. Now there was a terrifying thought.

He really needed another drink.

"Oookay. Great. Super." He jerked his head toward the bar, trying to acknowledge and yet not look at Robin at the same time.

It was only sort of working out for him.

They made their way to the bar and ordered their respective drinks before lulling into what Barney hoped had the semblance of a comfortable silence.

He was so busy trying to be nonchalant, he almost jumped out of skin when she said something.

"So Barney, you know that job I was talking to you about?"

Conversation. He could do this, no problem. He talked with people – in at least five languages, eight if you took into account different dialects – all the time.

He dared to make eye contact and slouched against the bar in an oh-so-very cool fashion. "That one that I forced you through my sheer power of awesome to apply for?"

She blinked at him. "Sure, Barney. That one."

He nodded graciously, taking his just-supplied drink and sipping regally from it. "What about it?" He hoped the eyebrow action he was giving her wasn't overdoing it.

She took her own drink in hand and leaned closer to him.

Barney might have shivered a little bit, a decidedly less than awesome reaction. He was going to have to work on this proximity thing.

"Don't tell the guys, but I just had my first interview."

"You did?" Suddenly, the forced atmosphere of casualness faded at his genuine excitement.

Which, really, should have been a clear warning sign of the worst – genuine excitement only came about due to genuine interest, and Barney had spent the last three days doing nothing but trying to convince himself that there was nothing genuine about his… infatuation.

"That's fantastic! How did it go?"

He was utterly doomed.

Robin grinned at his enthusiasm. "Really well, I think." She shrugged. "Or at least I didn't spew word vomit at them or anything, so I figure we're off to a good start."

Barney returned to smile. "That's great."

"Thanks," she said, taking a sip of her drink before looking him in the eye. "And thanks for convincing me to apply."

Her eyes were like stars. Blue, shiny, sparkly stars.

Dear God. Now he was the fifteen year-old girl. Pretty soon he was going to be demanding unicorns and puppies.

Barney shook himself and slouched a little more determinedly against the bar. "Well, my powers of awesome might as well be used for the forces of good."

"Really though." Suddenly her hand was on his, and between her soft skin and her beautiful eyes, Barney had to make an effort to remember to breathe. "Even if I don't get the job, I'm glad I tried, and I wouldn't have if it weren't for you."

He forced oxygen into his lungs and managed to squeak out, "You're welcome."

If Robin noticed his return to puberty, she didn't mention it, although she did allow her fingers to linger longer than Barney would have liked. (Or not nearly long enough, depending upon which part of Barney you were asking.)

Robin gave her head a slight shake before patting Barney's hand and pushing away from him and the bar. "Right. Ted. Star Wars." She motioned back to the table. "Come on, we have to help him grow a pair again."

**FOUR HOURS LATER**

Robin fumbled with her keys at the door to her apartment, Lily hot on her heels for some reason she hadn't quite figured out yet. Every now and then, when the need for a female friend overwhelmed her and she couldn't stand the thought of men a second longer, Lily would follow Robin home from McLaren's. Usually there was an obvious reason for this small retreat – Victoria's Secret runway show, a world-wrestling tournament, a Wii marathon that had lasted six days too long. These were the typical indicators that were oddly missing this time around.

So, Robin assumed it had something to do with clothes, shoes or Canadian hockey, which Lily had discovered a passion for once she got over the missing teeth and started to focus on the chiseled perfection of muscle that these fine athletes presented.

Girl stuff.

"Men and Han Solo," Robin said as she opened the door to her apartment.

"I know!" Lily agreed, sitting on the couch. "He's not _that_ great."

Robin took off her coat. "Well, maybe a little," she allowed.

Lily scoffed. "Young and hot Harrison Ford, of course he's a little great."

"But it's not like all women are in love with him." She hung her coat in her closet and made her way to the kitchen.

"No, definitely not. All men are in love with him, but pretend women are."

"Exactly." She brought out some glasses and rifled through the fridge, looking for semi-decent wine. "It's like, 'Hello! Stop projecting on me.'" She poured what was left of her red wine and went out sit on the couch with Lily.

Lily grabbed her glass with a grateful smile and shifted in her seat. "You know, speaking of men in love-"

Robin snapped her fingers in recognition. "It's the same with Indiana Jones, too. Maybe it's just a Harrison Ford thing." She was determined to get to the bottom of this inquiry – it was like a plague amongst men. They loved Harrison Ford. It either had to be a built-in genetic trait of the Y chromosome, or Harrison Ford was just that hot. Possibly both.

"Probably. Listen, Robin-"

"Wait! Captain Kirk." Theory foiled. "Dudes love Captain Kirk. I don't think William Shatner has that same appeal as Harrison though…"

"Robin!"

She stopped with her ponderings and finally glanced at Lily, who had to strained look of a woman on the edge – all fevered brows and excessive sweating.

It was actually incredibly disturbing.

"Yes, sweetie?" she asked as gently as possible, praying that Lily wasn't about to explode in some ticking time-bomb of Lily-ness.

"Barney loves you."

Boom.

With the sentence Lily's eyes grew to the size of saucers and she slapped her hands over her mouth.

Robin was off the couch in a heartbeat. "What?!"

Lily took her hands off of her mouth and a small, belated scream came out. "Ah!" To be fair, she recovered quickly. "Nothing! Nothing at all!" She laughed nervously and took a sip of wine before cocking her hip. "And girl, what are you talking about? Shatner had a body to die for back in the old days."

Robin just raised an insulted eyebrow at her. "The Distraction Reaction? Please."

"Stupid nervous tick!"

"Lily, Barney doesn't fall in love, except with himself after buying a new suit," she conceded.

"Robin, you should have seen him these past few months," Lily insisted, standing up as well. "He's been falling all over himself trying to hide it." She frowned. "And then trying to show it. And now trying to hide it again!"

Robin glared at her friend. "Lily, love isn't like hide-and-seek!" She gave her head an adamant shake. "And besides, Barney's still sleeping with half of the women in New York. He can't be hung up on me while having sex with a thousand what's-her-names on the side."

Lily raised a halting finger. "See, that's what you'd think with any normal person, right? But Barney's got the emotional maturity of a rabid chimpanzee and can't be expected to correlate love with fidelity."

Oh God. His mind did work like a primitive animal that had survived on its barbaric ways for millennia. He was a rabid chimpanzee. Which meant…

Barney Stinson was in love. Or at least thought he was, which was really the same thing, wasn't it? Figures, that out of all of the women Barney had slept with she was the one his subconscious decided to latch onto in a desperate attempt at actual feelings before his husk of a heart just gave up already.

Well… that was just tough for him, wasn't it?

Because Robin didn't love Barney back. He was a good friend, and they had a great time together, but that was all. So what if he'd been surprisingly sensitive and helpful in the past. So what if she couldn't think of any time she'd had more fun than when she was hanging out with him. So what if his reputation in the sack wasn't entirely based on myth.

And so what if she had been having a hard time not touching him lately, sitting next to him in crowded cabs and in too-small booths, keeping her leg pressed against his, letting her fingers rest on his longer than was strictly necessary.

Bit Robin wasn't fooling herself. None of that mattered because, at the end of the day, it was Barney Stinson they were talking about. Barney, who faked feelings all the time to get exactly what he wanted. Who had duped dozens (hundreds?) of hapless women throughout the years because they were too stupid to see past his crap. Barney, who thought that 'commitment' was buying a pillow for his guest for the night before throwing her out with it the next morning.

Barney wasn't in love – not really. She could buy that he had tricked himself into thinking he loved her, sure. But he would never reduce himself to the complicated, selfless and utterly pathetic love that was the real thing. It went against every article of self-preservation that had been ingrained into his personality.

Robin gave her head a final, definitive, shake. "No, you're wrong."

Lily looked at her desperately. "Robin-"

Robin held up a hand to stop her. "Lily, it just doesn't make sense. I can't believe that Barney could be in love with anybody, much less me." She let out a little laugh, accompanied by another head shake. "He can't be."

**THREE MORE DAYS LATER**

Marshall was in the middle of some intense meditation exercises – in the hopes that it would keep him from screaming from the rooftops the best secret in the history of ever – when he was rudely interrupted by someone entering his home.

Of course, it was the other guy who called the apartment home, so he couldn't complain too much about the disturbance. Besides, nothing could faze him out of his zen-like state.

"Marshall, what are you doing?" Ted asked from the doorway, frozen by Marshall's, clearly excellent, zen-practices.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Balancing a bowl on your head while throwing goldfish into your mouth."

He gave Ted a thumb's up, while still keeping the bowl perfectly balanced. "Bingo." Another goldfish made the flight toward his belly.

Ted just shook his head sadly. "Didn't you get a job?"

"Yep, but we're in the transitional phase. Something about taking the time to grow to Goliath proportions on a personal front prior to employment." Marshall sighed and took the bowl off of his head. "On the plus side, I really think I'm improving my balance."

"Uh-huh." Ted was clearly unimpressed.

Honestly, no one appreciated being at one with one's body anymore.

"Listen, Marshall, I think the engagement's canceled."

He dropped the box of goldfish. "What?"

Ted nodded and slumped his way onto the couch. "Stella and I are on a break."

Marshall picked up the box, set it on the coffee table, and joined Ted in his slump. He wasn't grumpy, but the position looked really comfortable. (And it definitely was. Sweet!) "Why?"

"Because she doesn't like Star Wars!"

There was an awkward silence in which Ted began to shift nervously.

"I mean, because she lied about it."

Marshall nodded his approval. "Of course."

Ted let out a strained laugh. "Yeah, breaking up with someone because they don't like a movie… That would be ridiculous."

"And childish."

"Totally."

Another awkward silence ensued as Marshall thanked the Great Nessie that Lily loved Star Wars.

After his small prayer, he coughed and turned to Ted once more. "So you did it because she lied."

"Yeah!" He gave a firm nod. "If she doesn't think she can tell me the truth now over something as-" Ted made a pained face. "-_silly_-"

Marshall did his best to stop the sob in his throat, but he was pretty sure a whimper got out.

"-as Star Wars, then how could I trust her to tell me the truth on the hard stuff?" Ted let out a sigh and covered his face with a hand. "I know it's a small thing, but it's so basic and fundamental to how a relationship works…"

Bother.

Marshall was going to have to be the mature one again, wasn't he?

He let out an internal groan.

He _hated_ it when he had to do that.

"Well, did she tell you why she lied?"

"Something about being willing to suffer if it meant I could be happy." Ted waved a dismissive hand. "But those were just excuses."

Marshall blinked at him. "Ted."

"Yeah Marshall?"

"Are you sure you want to get married to Stella?"

Ted's head whipped around to stare accusingly at his best friend. "What?"

"Did you just listen to yourself?" Marshall asked, sitting up in his seat to properly assert his authority and knowledge. (Faking maturity, he had learned, was half tone of voice and half body language. And, he supposed, maybe a little bit of actual maturity. Maybe.) "She was willing to go throughout the rest of her life torturing herself so she could indulge your, frankly magnificent, taste in movies, and you broke up with her for it."

Ted's mouth gaped for a moment or two before he sputtered, "Well, we didn't break up. We're just… On a break."

Marshall put on his long-practiced serious, reproachful father face. "Ted."

"My point is valid!" Ted insisted, finally sitting up as well. "She shouldn't feel the need to lie to me."

Marshall _hurumph_ed. Anecdote time.

"How long did Lily think I hated olives, Ted?"

And with that, Ted's mouth snapped closed.

It was sort of strange, but Marshall had figured out a while ago that Ted more than admired Marshall and Lily's relationship. Ted knew that it wasn't perfect, knew better than anybody how frustrated the two could get with one another and the problems that arose because of it… But for some reason he used their relationship as the standard. The one that he would judge every other bond by and what he aspired to with his own, someday.

It wasn't a position that Marshall was necessarily happy with occupying, but it did make the giving of advice particularly easy now.

"Nine years, Ted. Nine whole years of casting aside those delicious delectable bits because I wanted to make her happy. When Lily found out, you know what she did?"

Ted slumped back in his seat, seemingly deflated. "I suppose it wasn't to go on a break and getting huffy and irritated, was it?"

Marshall did his best to nod sagely. "That's what a marriage is, Ted. You make sacrifices for each other and forgive one another for the mistakes you make." Lecture nearly complete, Marshall slouched back into the couch cushion as well. "If you can't forgive Stella for this, maybe you need to think about what you really want out of your relationship with her."

Several moments passed of contemplative silence.

"You're right," Ted said at last and paused for a moment. "Dammit, Marshall."

Marshall shrugged helplessly. "I can't help it if I'm wise and all-seeing in the matters of love." He let out a giggle. "Between you and Barney, I could start charging." He snapped his fingers. "Hey! Maybe that can be my job! Marshall Erikson – Guru of Love and Mushy Stuff."

Suddenly Ted was sitting up again and frowning at him in a manner that made Marshall think that he had done something wrong. "Wait, back up."

Oh, crap. Lily was going to kill him.

Stupid forget-it-when-you-hear-it clause.

"Barney's in love?"

Marshall coughed and tried to sit up. "So you gonna get back together with Stella, Ted?"

Ted pushed him back into the couch. "Marshall, the Distraction Reaction?" He didn't look mad, just disappointed. "I thought you had more respect for me than that."

"I'm sorry, it's Lily." He sighed. "It must be contagious."

Ted blinked. "Huh?"

Marshall shook his head and continued on with more immediate concerns. "Look, Ted, I'm not even supposed to know this, so please just forget that I said anything about Barney being in love with Robin."

Ted's face got red. "With Robin?!"

**THREE MINUTES LATER**

"You know, you live a lot closer than I remember." Ted was doing his best to hide his harried panting, but he wasn't entirely certain he was being successful.

Fortunately, it wasn't like Barney noticed these sorts of things. "I know, right?"

Or that he noticed anything that was remotely important. Like the bond between two friends and the rules that came standard with that kind of bond. For instance, ceasing in one's actions when they were clearly doing the equivalent of running a friendship over with a freight train. Repeatedly. Which caused said friendship to be crushed dead. And in this instance, the nature of said train was a certain… obsession with Robin Scherbatsky.

Not that Ted was bitter or anything.

Barney opened up the door to his apartment more fully and retreated back into his lair. "What's up, bros?"

Ted followed, tugging a silent Marshall in by the scruff of his shirt and hearing a small yelp come out of the taller man as he looked everywhere but at Barney.

Like he'd let his best friend off the hook after spilling the beans. No, it was confrontation time, bro style, and Ted needed back up.

Granted, Marshall might not be able to do more than cower and whimper, but his was big, so the noises would seem at least a little intimidating. Hopefully.

Barney all but pranced to his coffee table, snapped up a remote, and clipped off the mega-television before Ted could see what he was watching.

Probably porn that he didn't want to shatter Marshall's innocence with.

"Oh, nothing," Ted answered. "Just thought we'd come by. Hang out. Chill."

Barney gestured toward the kitchen. "Want some beer?"

"Nah, we're cool." Ted casually made his way to the couch and sat down, pulling Marshall down in the seat next to him. "Maybe we could have a nice… talk instead."

Barney raised an eyebrow. "About our feelings? You really are a girl, aren't you?" He frowned at the nervous, twitching wreck sitting next to Ted. "Is Marshall okay? He seems to be having difficulty making eye contact." Marshall shied away from the attention, suddenly very interested in something on the ceiling.

Ted waved a dismissive hand. "He's fine."

Barney shrugged. "Yeah. Probably just intimidated by the Fortress of Barnitude." He grinned at Marshall. "I would tell you it goes away, but it doesn't."

Marshall responded with a disturbing giggle-hack that made both other men turn away in fear.

His best friend clearly didn't do well under pressure. Ted again wondered how the man was going to survive in a courtroom.

"So," Barney said, taking a seat. "Talking." He twiddled his thumbs awkwardly.

Here was the thing. Ted liked to think of himself as a good friend. Nay, a great friend. If there was anything he could do in a given situation to make things easier on one of his buddies, he would. Selling a car, hunting down condoms, playing wingman, even getting tagged along on a crazy adventure or fifty. If a friend needed it, Ted would come through. He was good at those sorts of commitment things.

Barney Stinson was not.

And so Ted had done his best to keep his requests for his bro to a minimum. Things like, 'Barney don't scandalize my grandmother' or 'Barney don't steal my fries when I'm not looking.' Small thing just so Ted could tell that Barney cared.

Of course, then Barney did things like show Grandma his porn collection and down Ted's entire bucket of fries in the five minutes he left the table for the bathroom. But, like Ted had made certain, these were small things that could be overlooked. (Grandma had been a wily thing in her youth anyway.)

So when Ted finally asked something big of Barney, namely not to sleep with his ex-girlfriend, he really shouldn't have been surprised at being disappointed.

But he had been.

And now, when all had been forgiven and Ted thought that he and Barney understood one another at long last, Mr. Stinson had to let him down again.

And it wasn't just the betrayal that stung – it was worry as well. Because Robin was a friend, one of the ones Ted would do anything to help if he could. And as close as he was with Barney, Ted knew full well what the Barnicle had in mind.

Not that Robin, out of all people, wouldn't clearly understand what Barney had in mind.

At that logic, a small voice in the back of Ted's head demanded to know why he was so upset, then? Robin had a good head on her shoulders and was more than capable of taking care of herself, and he had long since started to anticipate this kind of thing from Barney anyway. So what was the big deal? The voice went on to imply that his anger might have something to do with his own guilt involving Stella, what with his own confusing expectations and disappointing actions as a friend and fiancé.

Ted kicked that little voice and put it in the unwanted corner of his brain, where he kept the stuff like china patterns and different names for various strappy shoes.

Stella was wonderful. He and Stella were wonderful and they would be again as soon as he talked with her.

Barney Stinson was not wonderful and had not been acting in a wonderful fashion.

_That_ was the real problem here.

Yep.

…Enough of the introspection crap anyway. It was time to cut to the chase.

He looked at his friend levelly. "Do you love Robin?"

Barney blinked at Ted.

Ted blinked back.

This interaction continued for five minutes before Barney finally sputtered out, "N-noo." He coughed, straightened his jacket and asked, "How are things going with Stella?"

The Distraction Reaction? Really? Five minutes to come up with that?

To be fair, Barney did look a little frustrated with himself.

Showing the first signs of life in a solid twenty minutes, Marshall leaped to his feet. "I told you it was contagious!" he yelled triumphantly.

"You didn't even say anything," Ted pointed out.

Marshall threw a suspicious glance around the room. "It must be airborne now." With that he headed for the kitchen, clearly off to discover what airborne Distraction Reaction contagious bits looked like.

Ted just shook his head before turning back to Barney.

Who was still blinking at him.

"Barney."

Like an electric shock had been administered he jerked into action. "I'm not. Really."

Ted raised a nervous eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes." He gave a firm nod. "I'm _mostly_ not in love with her."

Ted sighed. "You've already done this once!" he said, pointing an accusatory finger at his friend.

"But I haven't 'done' anything!" Barney insisted. "You know I wouldn't violate the bro-code."

Marshall, who was now anxiously poking through Barney's massive porn collection, perked up from behind them. "Well, we've already established that you did break bro-code when you slept with Robin the first time."

Barney swiveled around to face him. "The first and only time!" He glared. "And I liked it better when you were too awed by my abode to speak."

Marshall looked about a bit before gesturing toward the statue to the left of him. "Is that a life-size stormtrooper?"

Barney smiled smugly. "Yeah it is."

Marshall grinned. "Awesome."

Ted rolled his eyes. "Focus!" Geekery was great, but there was a time and a place. "What game are you playing here, Barney?"

"It's not a game!" Barney ran a frenzied hand through his hair. "It's not- it's not anything."

Ted shook his head. "You said you're in love." And whether or not he actually meant it, the fact that Barney was willing to say it had to hold some significance.

Barney brought a hand to his forehead in anguish. "I know. I don't know what's wrong me!" He snapped his fingers and gestured wildly. "It must be a phase. Like bisexuality for women in college."

Ted sent him a blank stare. "Feelings are a phase for you."

He nodded. "Has to be."

"You're not faking to get in her pants again?"

Barney snorted. "Please, Ted. The 'I'm in love with you' routine? If nothing else credit me with more originality."

He still wasn't convinced. "So you're not interested in sleeping with her?"

The blond outright laughed. "Of course I'm interested. What do you take me for, a limp noodle?"

Ted glared.

"But I won't!" He amended quickly before offering a helpless shrug. "It's not like Scherbatsky would be interested anyway, right?"

It was so out of place, Ted almost thought he imagined the gravity of Barney's tone.

Mistaking his confusion for suspicion, Barney rolled his eyes and held up his right hand. "I swear on the bro-code which we all hold sacred."

Ted shifted in his seat. "Okay then."

Barney nodded.

And that, it seemed, was that.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Ted turned hopefully toward his friend. "Want to watch some TV?"

No reason to let the mega-TV go to waste.

Barney gave an enthusiastic nod. "Yeah, I think Monster Trucks are on ESPN5."

In the split second it took for Barney to change the channel, Ted swore he saw Robin's face smiling back at him from the Metro News 1 station.

And in that moment of realization – when it dawned on Ted that this was far from a game to Barney – the situation became infinitely more complicated.

Then a giggle sounded from behind them, Marshall emerging from Barney's bathroom with a huge grin plastered on his face. "Your toilet. It…" He gestured fruitlessly before settling with a gleeful, "Hee!"

Understandably, some of the severity of the state of affairs was momentarily lost upon Ted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: The Distraction Reaction (2/3)  
**Characters**: The Gang, Barney/Robin  
**Word Count**: 8,915  
**Rating**: PG  
**Disclaimer**: Not mine. –sniff-  
**Spoilers**: Takes place three days after 4x02, "The Best Burger in New York." Spoilers up until then!  
**Summary**: _As far as defensive reactions went, The Distraction Reaction was, decidedly, the least effective. The equivalent to throwing the dog a bone when you had a sirloin steak in-hand, any idiot could have told her that it just wasn't going to work out._  
**Author's Notes**: I hate it when shows 'steal' my ideas and do them better than me. –pout- As should be fairly obvious, this story is now AU after "I Heart NJ." Also, as is my tendency, I underestimated how much space all of that narrative stuff takes up, so there'll be one more (shorter) chapter to the fic. Still new, still no beta (due to impatience rather than lack of offers!), and concrit is still appreciated. Thanks for your time!

--

**THREE WEEKS LATER**

"'Got news,'" Lily read obediently from her cell phone. "'McL's, 5.'"

Barney turned from Lily to stare pointedly at his best friend. "And that is how a respectable, non-pubescent, writes a text message."

"I told you I was panicked!" Ted shouted defensively.

Barney raised an eyebrow.

"It was Star Wars!"

"So what do you guys think Robin's big news could be?" Marshall asked.

"Don't know," Lily remarked. "She's been awfully busy lately. Could be anything."

Marshall perked up hopefully. "Hey, do you think-"

Lily cut him off. "No, Marshall."

"But-"

"She hasn't been tracking down Nessie, I'm sorry sweetie."

He deflated. "A guy can hope, can't he?"

Before Barney could comment on the less than completely dignified nature of Marshall's hopes, Robin appeared at his elbow.

"Hey!"

He tried to remain casual. Namely by not jumping out of his seat, screaming, or whimpering longingly.

And to his credit, the whimper that came out of him was really really tiny.

It's not that Barney was scared of Robin. As if anything could scare Barney, really. Except for driving. And that was only because it was a completely unnatural exercise for a human to partake in and had nothing whatsoever to do with things whooshing past at lightening speeds, no matter what Ted said.

Barney loved lightening speeds.

Point being, he wasn't even slightly terrified of Robin. It was more like he was afraid of what he would do while around her. Like whimpering pathetically in a completely unawesome way.

And this fear was not helped by Ted's inquisitive stare to the right of him.

On the plus side, said gaze didn't seem to communicate any homicidal desires, just deep curiosity. That was progress of some kind, he guessed.

Barney celebrated by scooting away from Robin.

"So?" Marshall asked the newest arrival expectantly.

Robin sighed. "No patience at all."

Ted shook his head. "None."

"Tell me, tell me!" Lily piped in.

Robin grinned. "A round on me first. Barney, could you come help?"

Again, Barney applauded himself on his lack of screaming. He was really starting to master this casual thing.

"Sure," he said as he stood up and – oh so casually – followed Robin to the bar.

See? He was completely fine, no strange funny feelings of any sort being felt here. Only the normal awesome kind. He was even able to appreciate the finely sculpted wonder of a sweet young thing's barely-there dress while waiting for the drinks Robin had just ordered. He was doing great. What had ever made him think he had been in love with Robin in the first place?

Then she started to talk to him. "So the job?"

And like a whip had been cracked Barney forgot all about barely-there girl and focused all of his attention on the beautiful, sophisticated woman standing next to him.

Dammit! This was _not_ going into his blog.

He did his best to concentrate on the conversation in an attempt to forget his massive failure at being uninterested in Robin Scherbatsky for at least three seconds. "The one-?"

She rolled her eyes. "You forced me through your sheer power of awesome to apply for. Yes, that one."

Barney tried to look bored. "What about it?"

Because, really, he didn't care about the job. Or about how her day went. Or what her favorite color was. Or if she ever believed in the Tooth Fairy, or Santa Clause or –

Good God, he needed help.

"I got it."

Barney snapped out of it and found himself grinning like the huge, lame, idiot he was turning into. "You did?"

Ugh. And said with such legitimate caring and everything…

She returned his smile smugly. "Oh yeah I did."

"That's great!" And before he really knew what he was doing, he had stepped forward and hugged her. A full-blown, arms around her shoulders, face buried in her hair, no distance between his body and hers, hug.

He was so overwhelmed and giddy by his own boldness (initiating physical contact and everything), he was half-convinced he was having a flashback to high school.

And it got no better when she wrapped her own arms around him.

Suddenly completely surrounded by all things Robin (her smell, the way she felt, her hands on him… and various other body parts on him that were a lot more fun), Barney briefly let himself get lost in the sensation.

And then he remembered Ted, watching from the booth. And the bro code. And his dignity and duty to all things awesome. And the fact that he was absolutely not in love with Robin.

With a start he leapt away from her, running a hand through his hair and tugging his suit straight. "I mean, yeah man. That's cool." He slouched against the bar and tried to look uninterested again. "Whatever."

He just hoped that Robin couldn't see him sweating.

Although with the way she was squinting at him, with her furrowed brow and more than slightly concerned expression, one would have thought his distress was obvious. Not that he did think that, of course. Barney had already established that he had mastered the casual thing.

"Er, thanks Barney."

He shrugged as nonchalantly as possible, considering that he still felt all tingly everywhere she had been touching him. "Yeah, for sure."

Why were the drinks taking so long?

"Anyway, just thought you would like to know."

Barney nodded. "I'm guessing that's why you called this little gathering together?"

"The very reason."

He frowned. "And why is it that you decided I should be the first one to hear the news?"

Robin suddenly seemed fascinated by countertop. "No reason." The bartender returned with their ordered drinks. "Look! The drinks are here!"

Barney frowned. Undue enthusiasm (honestly, it wasn't even scotch), excessive eagerness, and a lack of a substantial response to the original question.

Had she just tried to use The Distraction Reaction on him?

If he ignored the insult to his character, which was awfully gracious of him, it certainly did add an intriguing new dimension to his predicament.

Scherbatsky, it seemed, had something to hide.

Interesting.

Robin hurriedly gathered an armful of alcohol and gestured toward the booth. "Better tell everybody else."

Barney nodded, picking up the remaining glasses and following her back to the group, but not without a few new possibilities on his mind.

Very interesting indeed.

**TEN MINUTES LATER**

"So this is what you've been up to the past month!" Ted said as he took a swing of beer.

Robin nodded. "I didn't want to tell you guys and then have us all disappointed if I didn't get it."

"Peh, as if." Barney scoffed in the seat next to her. "You've clearly absorbed some of my residual awesome, making you completely impossible to resist."

Robin did her absolute best not to blush. What was she, a thirteen-year-old with a crush?

Not that she had a crush. Because she didn't. She was just flattered. Yes, that was it. Flattered by his attentions. They were cute. Quaint. And not all something that she had spent the past three weeks agonizing and/or fantasizing over. Because, like she had already established, she wasn't a teenager anymore.

Were people still talking?

"Cable and everything!" Ted beamed. "You're a genuine star now."

Lily whipped out the jazz hands. "See that limelight glowing around her?"

Marshall regarded her seriously with a pensive hand on his chin. "Should I sell your autograph on ebay now, or should I give it a few weeks for the Scherbatsky craze to really set in?"

Robin grinned.

She loved her friends.

In a platonic, non-crushy way, of course.

"When do you start?" Lily asked.

"Not for a month," she answered. "But I still need to be placed in a position."

Ted frowned. "Lead anchor, right? Big desk at the front of the room where all the cameras are pointed?"

"Well they've set up a few headquarters, and they're thinking about putting me in the New York office," she paused appropriately so that the proper amount of anticipation could build. "Or at the California station."

Barney spat out his mouthful of beer. "California?" he sputtered.

"Right?" She had been more than a little shocked herself. "They have to have anchors available for the Pacific time zone, and apparently they're not digging the LA pretension they're finding locally, so..."

Barney leaned forward in his seat. "Are you going to go?"

"I'm thinking about it. It would be a great opportunity, and it would pay more." She shook her head. "But I love New York, I couldn't stand to leave you guys."

"But you're thinking about it?"

It was then she noticed that Barney's tone wasn't just politely inquisitive – if she hadn't known better, she would have thought it was panicked.

She regarded him seriously. "It would be stupid not to."

"When do you need to decide by?" Marshall asked, his excitement in direct contrast with Barney's… dread?

"Within the next two weeks. I'm actually going to be taking a tour in the West Coast studio next week."

"Well, no pressure from us, Robin." Lily patted her hand from across the table. "You do whatever you think is best."

"LA over New York? Really Robin?" Ted asked, incredulous. "New York is the best city in the world, you'd be crazy to even consider-"

"Ted!" Lily yelled.

Ted gulped. "We'll support you no matter what your decision is."

Lily nodded smugly. "Good Ted."

Robin grinned, doing her best not to notice the way Barney had slumped dejectedly next to her. "We'll see. I'm not jumping into anything yet."

"You say you leave in a week?" Marshall asked innocently, turning to his wife with a raised eyebrow.

Lily smiled and her eyes sparkled in the familiar, slightly crazed, party-gleam. "Oh, that's nice," she remarked.

She then made a complicated hand gesture and looked at Marshall significantly.

Marshall promptly smiled like a kid about to get some candy. "You know, sweetie, I think I left my roast beef in the oven."

"Have you? We'd better go check on that." They shuffled out of the booth. "Bye guys!"

And with that, the two were off to make party plans and take part in activities that would make the kid forget about his candy.

Robin, Barney, and Ted stared after them for a beat before turning to each other knowingly.

"They suck at subtle," Ted muttered.

"A lot," Barney agreed. "It would be nice if they'd at least put some effort in it and pretended to spare us." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "It's putting a damper on my mojo."

Robin gave them both stern looks. "Hey, if they did try to save us from their sexual adventures they wouldn't have the benefit of scarring us for life and making us have intimacy issues when we grow up."

Ted shrugged. "Guess we can't deny them that."

"I could," Barney muttered. "It's creepy. Like knowing the strange man your mom just brought home isn't actually there to repair the drawers in her closet and then hearing strange banging noises coming from the bedroom."

She and Ted stared at him in slight horror.

Barney blinked at them. "Or was that just me?"

Robin and Ted exchanged a look, each wondering what a sensitive way to respond would be, when Ted jumped a little in his chair.

"Vibrator's on," he muttered as he reached into his pocket.

Barney stared at Ted and almost licked his lips before letting out a sigh. "Nah." He turned to Robin. "It's just too easy. I mean, everyone can see his ovaries at this point, you know?" He shook his head at the other man.

Ted ignored him and stared at the screen of his cell phone. "It's Stella."

Robin winced internally.

Three weeks had past since Ted had decided to 'go on a break' with his fiancé for not liking Star Wars. And no, she wasn't the only one to seriously question the sanity of a man idiotic enough to pull a stunt like that. Since the break-up, they had barely heard a peep from or about Stella. To the best of Robin's knowledge, she was giving Ted the cold shoulder and Ted had been suffering (not so silently) in the meantime.

Personally, Robin was impressed that the woman hadn't come at him with a hatchet of some sort.

Robin turned back to Ted, whose eyes hadn't left the text message. "And?"

He looked up nervously. "She wants to talk."

Barney scoffed. "Women and talking." He nodded toward Ted. "And strange she-male hybrids."

Robin rolled her eyes and grinned reassuringly at her friend. "About time."

Barney took a sip of his drink. "Yeah, what's taken so long for her to indulge your feminine fancies anyway?"

"It's complicated," Ted said, standing up from the table and suddenly noticing the basket of fries laid out between them. "Oh, look! Fries!"

Robin sighed. This Distraction Reaction nonsense really needed to come to a stop.

Besides, the situation wasn't all that complicated. Ted had broken up with a woman because of Star Wars months before their wedding. Said woman was clearly being incredibly reasonable and staving off her murderous hatchet-hacking desires through ignoring his existence entirely for a few weeks.

What was so complicated about that?

Men.

Ted lost interest in the fries and gestured to the door. "Well I'm off."

"Good luck!" Robin told him as he backed away from the table.

"Be sure to have break-up sex if it doesn't pan out!" Barney yelled just as Ted was leaving the bar.

Robin scowled at him.

"What?" he asked, munching on a fry.

And this was the man who had been occupying so many of her thoughts for the past month.

She let out an internal groan and thanked the heavens that this odd fascination with him was just a phase.

Hopefully.

**ONE MINUTE LATER**

Barney had done his best to mock Ted and make obligatory inappropriate remarks, but really, his thoughts were elsewhere. In fact, said thoughts were the same place they had been the past three months, in spite of his better (awesome) judgment.

California?

Robin was going to go to California?

Well, maybe not. But this was Robin. Brilliant, amazing Robin who put her job before everything else. Who didn't hold herself back for anybody or anything, and scowled at anyone who asked her to until they gave up and ran away. (The Canadian brand of scowling was especially scary.)

And, really, why should she hold back? Barney obviously hadn't, and that had made him the king of the crop of all things cool. And, after a series of very complex and intricate tests that he didn't have the time to go into detail about (calibrating one's awesome-level was no easy feat), he had determined that there was some similar possible awesome in Scherbatsky. With potential like that, there should be no reason for Robin to curtail her success, and if to reach her ultimate plateau of brilliance she had to move to California, so be it.

Except…

Barney started mentally screaming at himself.

Except nothing. Because he didn't care where Robin lived. Just like he didn't care about her job, or her happiness, or her favorite color.

Because Barney Stinson didn't care about Robin Scherbatsky.

Robin picked up a fry before standing up. "I better take off too."

Why was it that she could do something as simple and basic as standing and make it look beautiful?

Wait. What had he just thought?

Barney resisted the urge to bang his head on the table.

She threw her coat on. "Early morning, turning in my two week's notice and all." Robin grinned in that mischievous way she had when she was about to do something she knew was less than honorable.

Barney loved that look.

He smirked at her. "You're going to shove it in their faces, aren't you?"

"I'm the best lead anchor they've had on that station ever. To make my leaving any more traumatic would be wrong and unnecessarily cruel of me." She returned his smirk. "Of course I'm going to rub it in their faces."

"Have fun," he told her as he locked his eyes on beer, deciding that he really couldn't keep looking at her when she was smiling like that. "Throw in a 'nahnahnah' in for me, would you?"

"You aren't leaving?"

Barney shook his head and sipped at his drink. "There was a clinger this morning who hung around the apartment," he lied quickly. "I think I got rid of her, but-"

Robin nodded. "Better to be safe than sorry." She let out a huff of air and then tugged on his sleeve. "Come on, then."

"Huh?" The lie was supposed to make her desist and depart, not initiate more contact of the physical variety. The physical, distracting variety.

Not good, not good. Barney's internal panic lights flashed and he fought every instinct that was telling him to abandon ship. Barney rarely got tripped up in a lie, but when he did and it was clear that there was no hope is salvaging what could have been a fun time, his 'flight' response kicked in.

Unfortunately, pointing behind Robin and then running out of the bar might have annoying repercussions the next time he saw her. He sighed. Friendships and their getting in the way of his clear escapes…

Robin gave his sleeve another tug. "I'm not going to leave you here and then have you pick up some other girl to take home. She'll just end up meeting the other one when you get there."

She pulled him to his feet and he tried to come up with some plausible reason not to leave with her. It wasn't that he didn't want to. Hanging out with Robin had become an addiction – something that felt so good and so wrong at the same time and that he needed much, much more of.

But addictions were bad. Like crack. Crack was bad.

Robin Scherbarsky was a bad addiction.

Therefore… Robin was crack?

He'd have to work on that analogy.

After he figured out how he was going to avoid the Robin-crack.

"But the cat fights are so much fun!"

"You're not the one sporting a bald spot the next morning."

Didn't she ever give up?

"I really think I should stay," Barney insisted, now clutching onto the table for dear life as Robin continued to pull him toward the exit. "The grade of bimbos offered tonight is just fantastic. Not like most nights, let me tell you."

She stared at him blankly. "Barney, this is below even you."

He shot a glance around the bar and saw a 60 year-old woman, a biker with a beard that could house a small munchkin village, and a 'working gal' who had seen better decades.

She was right. This was below his usual standards. Which was really saying something, because a few months ago that 60 year-old would have seemed downright foxy.

Robin was such a terrible influence.

She gave another tug and he let go of the table, allowing her to guide him out of McLaren's. "Come on. I won't bite, I promise."

"Ha," he laughed nervously. "Haha. Ha." Barney tried to crush the bit of him that really wished she would bite.

He was only sort of successful.

Robin turned back to him and grinned as they stepped outside into the rainy fall evening. "You're lucky I'm such a generous bro and letting you pay my way home, you know."

Lucky. That was one way of looking at it, he guessed.

Completely doomed was another.

**TWO AND A HALF HOURS LATER**

What the hell was she doing?

Well, she was finishing the hellish walk to her apartment in a terrifying storm that had appeared out of nowhere, yes.

But why was Barney with her? Why had she asked him to come along? And then, when he had come up with plenty of reasons _not_ to come, why had she all but forced him to?

And why didn't he carry more money on him?

"I can't believe you couldn't pay for the entire cab ride here," she muttered, shaking out her coat as they reached her apartment door.

They had gotten kicked out of the cab when Barney revealed that he only had enough money to get them half of the way there. The rest of the trip had been spent rushing around in the pouring rain with coat and jacket, respectively, being held up to their ears as they ran for cover.

Barney shrugged and lost a few buckets of water in the process. "I'm more of a plastic man." Frowning, he took off his jacket and sighed as it continued to drip in the hallway.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you are." She shoved open her door and gestured inside, lugging her soaked bag and coat after her. "Come on in." She poked around on her coffee table and found some change to pay for Barney's subway ride home.

Barney gaped at the doorway. "I should just go –" He pointed vaguely in the direction of the stairs and began the retreat.

And for some reason she didn't want to think too heavily on, Robin couldn't stand the thought of him leaving.

She raced forward and grabbed his arm before he took a step. "Barney, it's freezing out there and you're soaked. At least dry off a bit before you hit the subway, okay?" She grinned. "You don't want to get sick. Again."

He glared – an action that was less than dignified with water dripping from his hair into his eyes. It came out more squinty than intimidating. "I don't get sick."

She raised an eyebrow as she plopped the change into his outstretched hand. "Barney." She took a step backward into the apartment, dragging him with her. "You collapsed in a hallway from sneezing and fell asleep into your soup. You were sick."

He let out a snort, put the coins in his pant pocket, and closed the door behind him. "Uh, no. I was actually being a new kind of awesome that you didn't have the sophistication to appreciate."

She should have found him annoying. Should have rolled her eyes, thrown up her hands, and pushed him out of her home and have been done with it.

But instead she grinned and took hold of his other arm, making him drop his jacket. "Oh, was that it?"

"I'm afraid so." He sighed dramatically, trying to hide a smile behind that false bravado he was so good at. "I mean, let's be honest, you're cool Scherbatsky, but you're a few lessons away from reaching the ultimate level of awesome."

There she was, looking ridiculous she was sure, all dripping hair and wet clothes and in a blouse she could swear he could see through if he just moved his eyes downward a bit.

But he didn't. Instead he kept looking at her eyes.

That must have been why, she rationalized, it seemed like such a good idea to take a step closer to him. "And I suppose that you're the one to teach me those lessons?" Her babies needed some appreciation, right?

He huffed a bit, still smiling, and placed his hands on her hips. "You wish."

The rain should have made her feel freezing cold, but his touch burned.

"Oh, I don't think so, Stinson," she tried to smirk, to keep her voice natural and even. To make it seem as if she wasn't the least bit affected by him. By that smile (not smug or defiant or cocky – a real smile), those nimble hands at her sides, the wet collar that was open at his throat, the way he wouldn't stop staring at her.

She gulped. "I'm pretty sure I've got you wrapped around my finger." The words came out smooth, but her hand, when she traced it up his bicep and let it rest on his shoulder, was shaking.

Barney moved his eyes away from her face to look at her hand before turning back to her, expression different. "You do, do you?"

"Oh yeah. You're awesomeness only reigns supreme because I allow it." She laughed a bit and, before she could think better of it, erased the remaining distance between them, arms going around his shoulders and her cheek resting at the hollow of his throat. "Better be careful or I might revoke those privileges."

And it was about then that Robin's good sense and judgment came flooding back to her.

Terrible, terrible timing.

Why had she done that?

Robin felt herself tense, all airs of confidence quickly dismantling at the (series of, really) clearly illogical actions she had just taken. She was soaking wet – _he_ was soaking wet – and she was cuddling up to him like some kind of gigantic, man-shaped pillow.

_What was she doing?_ What was she, rational, sensible, smart, intelligent Robin Scherbatsky, doing?

She wanted to pull away, reestablish that stable distance that helped insure that her brain was still working properly. That's when it had all gone wrong – when she had started touching him. Everything had been fine until that point. No conflict, no confusion. Just Barney Stinson, being his sleazy self, and Robin, being her smart, emotionally (and _physically_) distant self. That had been going well for her.

He must have felt her tension by this point, must have realized that she was regretting this sudden proximity. She needed to pull away, needed to do it before things got more awkward and he (Barney Stinson – of all people) got hurt.

But then he, slowly, brought a hand to the small of her back. And then he started gently stroking up and down her spine, until all of the tension inexplicably melted away and she allowed herself to relax into him. She let the smooth motion of his hand moving against her arched back soothe her, started to breathe in time with the breaths she felt rising and falling in his chest, felt his entire being warm her from the outside in.

And it all felt far too good.

What the hell was she doing?

She felt more than heard him take a steadying breath, his throat moving just slightly under her cheek. "Why did you invite me over, Robin?"

Good question.

A question she had no intention of answering. Ever.

Because Robin didn't do this kind of thing. The impulsive, stupid, sort of stuff that caused so many problems for other people down the line. That sucked for everyone else, but Robin Scherbatsky was smart – she used her head and not her heart to make her decisions. Hearts were stupid, made people view everything through a goo-goo filter that ended up distorting reality in addition to making them watch and enjoy really bad movies. (When had stalking started to be considered romantic, honestly?)

Robin didn't buy into any of it, and because of that she had, thus far, had a relatively complication-free life. Action led to reaction, led to success, led to happiness. A very simple formula.

She had just gotten the job of her dreams, and now she was going to go to California to see if those dreams would come to fruition around palm trees instead of subways. A good, solid plan, friends and Barney Stinson be damned.

Why, then, was she dreading the whole experience like an execution date?

And why had she, ever since she had started to peruse the job wholeheartedly, been completely unable to stop thinking about Barney?

Because Robin Scherbatsky couldn't like-like (much less love) Barney Stinson, not if she was following her tried and true method of thinking with her head and not a certain internal organ that had long since been proven to show idiotic judgment when it came to all things sensible.

No, Robin definitely didn't do this kind of thing.

Even if it might have appeared, to the casual observer, that this 'kind of thing' was exactly what she was doing, what with all of the dampness, arm-wrapping, and cheek-resting that was going on. But it was just a lapse. An innocent lapse that she would correct momentarily.

Right after she took in every detail of each sensation she was feeling and memorized it.

She might have been too smart for anything else, but she was stupid enough, at least, for this.

And that was why, she supposed, she had invited him over.

But, being the smart woman she was and listening to her head again, that was also something she could never, ever, tell him.

Steadying herself, Robin answered Barney's question. "No reason." She lifted her head from that – now perfectly memorized – hollow at his throat. "So what's going on with Ted and Stella anyway?"

She mentally kicked herself.

After all of that inner turmoil, she uses The Distraction Reaction?

What a waste of a good internal monologue.

She started to pull away only to feel Barney's grip on her hip and back tighten slightly. She looked up to see him staring at her with a lost expression on his face, like a kid who had jumped into the deep end of the swimming pool without floaters and wasn't ready to swim yet.

"Robin, I –" he began, throwing a quick glance around the room, eyes fixating on an object for a second before flashing back to her face.

And in the next instant, that kid was gone.

"Have to go." She was convinced that it took him less than a millisecond to put on his smirk, let her go, scoop up his jacket, and open the door. "Congratulations. See you at the secret party Lily's throwing that we don't know anything about. Don't forget to suit up!"

Then the door slammed shut and Robin was left alone, wet and shivering in the middle of her empty apartment.

Well. That had been abrupt.

After a few moments of pointless gaping at her closed door, she threw a glance around the room, curious to see what had sent Barney running.

As best as she could tell, it was a picture from Marshall and Lily's wedding, back when she and Ted had still been pretending to be all coupley. In the background the newlyweds where (desperately, starving as they were) trying to feed each other cake while Ted and Robin cuddled up at the table in front.

She allowed a small smile at the picture before sighing and hanging up her coat. It was high time, she decided, to have a nice, long and oh-so-luxurious bath with an even more luxurious glass of wine.

Expensive wine that came in a bottle and everything.

**ONE HOUR LATER**

Lily was used to getting calls at odd hours from Barney. Between the sex-swing, potential legendary outings that she just 'had to know about,' and an occasional request to pretend to be his wife again, Lily was pretty certain she was on his speed-dial right next to 'Your Personal Playboy Hotline.'

But never, in all of the calls that had been sent her way in the past, had Barney seemed so panicked.

Or at least she hoped it was panic. When she answered the phone what she had heard was some unintelligible she-shriek that lasted about five minutes before being hastily cut off as the line went dead.

So, she figured Barney was either panicking or was being eaten alive by a banshee. Sadly, knowing Barney's sex-life, both options were equally plausible.

And so it was that, with an internal sigh, Lily left Marshall snoring peacefully in bed and made her way over to Barney's apartment at three in the morning.

All things considered, it was the least she could do for the poor, pathetic, emotional pubescent of a man. After all, for all of Barney's own sentimental deficiencies, he'd been there for her (and had traveled cross-country to get there) even when she didn't ask for it.

Things like that were what reassured Lily when she found herself questioning her friendship with Barney. His lifestyle wasn't exactly in sync with her own, and half of the time she found him and everything he stood for morally despicable. And then he would do something kind, or generous, or selfless without any expectation of reward, gain, or praise, and she'd realize that, in spite of everything, Barney really was a good person. One who had, time and time again, proven to be deeply dedicated to his friends.

What sort of buddy would she be if she didn't reciprocate?

Five minutes after getting the phone call, she was knocking on his door. (He really did live close, didn't he?)

Two seconds after that, the door jerked open, a hand latched onto her arm, she let out a small 'eek,' and she was violently pulled into the apartment.

In the next second the door had been closed and Barney was pointing a stern finger at her. "First, you sold me out to your husband." He glared. "I'm very upset with you for this and haven't forgiven you in the slightest."

That was fair. "Okay." Nobody liked having their secret love being revealed to the entirety of Manhattan, which was exactly what would happen as soon as Marshall was released out into the wild and started having conversations with other humans again. He really had no will power when it came to these hush-hush matters.

Barney evaluated her understanding before slowly lowering his finger. "So long as we're clear."

Lily nodded. "We are."

"Great." He relaxed and looked around idly for a moment, and Lily wondered if she had imagined the she-shriek.

Then he lunged forward, grasped both of her shoulders in his hands and shook her in desperation. "Lily, make it stop!"

Lily tried not to look as horrified as she felt.

She hadn't even known people could contort their faces like that.

"Make what stop?"

"Feelings!" he yelled, letting her go and throwing himself dramatically on the couch. "I want them gone, and I want them gone now, and you have to tell me how to get rid of them!" He made a small choking sound and rested his head on the arm of the sofa.

Lily resisted the urge to 'aw' at him.

He was so in love – it was adorable.

She made her way to a chair and patted her forlorn friend's head reassuringly. "What happened?"

He sat up, took a deep breath, and exploded with word throw up. "I went over to Robin's and there was rain and touching and that infectious Distraction Reaction. And then there was a picture, with Ted and your wedding and couples." He turned to Lily franticly. "I don't do weddings, you hear me Lily?"

She nodded in what she hoped was a very serious and agreeable fashion. Kids always like to know that their feelings are being taken seriously, even if they are just babbling nonsense.

Barney continued. "I'm not a couple guy. I'm too awesome for a 'we,' you understand?" He paused, grinning. "After all, the last two letters of awesome are 'me.'" He raised an expectant eyebrow at her. "Eh?"

Lily frowned and shook her head.

Not his best work.

He let out a disappointed huff and then shook himself. "But then I think about Robin and California and…" He let out another sob and clenched at her arm. "Lily! Get rid of the feelings nooow!" he whined.

Poor, poor boy. She did some more head patting. "Barney, it doesn't work like that."

"Well it should!" he insisted, leaping to his feet and beginning to pace. "I feel like I have an incurable disease." He stopped. "Oh God. Maybe it's cancer." He ran a hand through his hair. "That's what it is, what it's always been. Cancer! Terminal cancer!" He let out a sigh. "I'm so relieved."

Only with Barney would terminal cancer be a welcome relief from feelings. "This doesn't have to be a bad thing!"

"I don't see how it can be a good thing." He sent her a funny glance. "Have you seen what chemo does to a person?"

She rolled her eyes. "Barney, stop." She stood up as well, put on her serious face, grabbed his shoulders, and looked him directly in the eye. "Why is this bothering you so much?"

"Because it's not right, that's why! It goes against the natural order of things!" A longing look came across his features as he stared at some spot over her shoulder, no doubt imagining Robin. "I can barely stand not being around her, and then when I am around her, all I can think about is how much I –" he looked back at Lily, coughed and lost the longing look. " – want to do her."

And if cancer didn't work as a good replacement for feelings, he would just have to make do with sex.

Lily rolled his eyes and indulged him. Always communicate with kids in a language they can understand. In Barney's case, sleazebagary.

She gave him an encouraging smile. "Nothing's wrong with wanting to do her, Barney. It's natural – it's what emotionally secure people do."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Not me!"

Lily sighed. "Barney, how many women have you scandalized and/or left for dead this week?"

Barney tilted his head contemplatively. "None."

"How many old people did you ruthlessly take advantage of because 'they were asking for it'?"

He furrowed his brow. "None."

"How many children have you made cry?"

"None." Now he was frowning with displeasure.

"How many children have you manipulated to sleep with their mothers?"

"None." He shook his head in disappointment. "Man, I am off my game."

Lily took a deep breath and reminded herself that patience was a virtue. And that friends didn't hit friends across the head for being emotional retards. "Barney, you're going to have to realize that," she utilized the wonderful marvel of air-quotes, "'wanting to do' Robin isn't something that's making you sick." She gave his shoulders a squeeze. "It's making you better."

"At what?" Barney scoffed, raising a speculative eyebrow.

She sent him a gentle smile. "Being human."

For the small amount of time it took for Lily to remove her hands from Barney's shoulders, his face had that shocked, still quality of someone who had just been told a truth they didn't want to hear.

And then he started speaking sleazebag again. "Peh. Yeah, uh-huh. Better, sure." Barney looked around the room in a slightly desperate fashion, clearly seeking something to end the conversation in speedily.

"So when are you and Marshall planning on having kids?"

Lily grumbled. Stupid Distraction Reaction.

**THE NEXT DAY**

Ted used to be better at this stuff. Nay, he used to be great at this stuff. Super-power great. When it came to the commitment, relationshippy stuff that he had spent the past three years of his life determinedly seeking out, Ted was the master. He was the Superman of boyfriends and hoping to get an upgrade to Superhusband in the near future.

Why was it that now, right when everything he ever wanted was in his reach, he had managed to loose his heroic boyfriend abilities?

Suffice it to say, his talk with Stella hadn't gone well. She had lied and he was upset, but she couldn't seem to grasp why he was angry. It wasn't about Star Wars (okay – it mostly wasn't about Star Wars), and it wasn't about Stella. It was about the both of them.

It wasn't that they didn't care for each other. He loved her and she loved him, but it was becoming more and more apparent with every passing day that love by itself might not be enough.

See, Ted was a fan of the small stuff. The big things were important too, without question, but the real strength of a relationship was in the details. Little things that made a connection special in it's own right, not just because of love, but because of… history. Things like blue French horns, cupcake care packages and olives. But he and Stella, they weren't good at the small things.

They had the big stuff covered, no problem. Ted was ready to spend the rest of his life with Stella, they could make each other laugh for hours on end, they had a natural attraction and appreciation for one another, they both wanted their family to grow and Ted already loved Lucy just as much as he loved her mother. Love, commitment, chemistry, humor, family – they had all of those down pat.

Then why hadn't they come up obnoxious nicknames for each other? Or a game involving 'general's, 'major's and the ilk that drove everyone crazy? Why didn't they have a favorite place to eat dinner every Wednesday night when they were both too tired to cook, or a board game that they insisted on playing together whenever possible?

Where were the details?

So, the morning after their fight, all Ted wanted to do was forget about those missing intricacies. All of the little things that were wrong with the way he and Stella were going about their relationship needed to disappear, if only for a few hours. And so he went the one place a person could to forget their troubles and descend into happiness.

He went to brunch.

It was a tradition spanning back decades. Whenever something was wrong in the world, people sat down and ate their way through it. Who was Ted to deny this benchmark of human society, this glorious breakfast/lunch combo that could, in all likelihood, be the first step toward world peace?

And it wasn't just Ted he thought this way. Oh no. The entire gang (with the exception of Barney, who thought it was all too 'pedestrian') was on his side. Brunch was their default comfort food location, their place to regroup and rebuild strength after a harrowing ordeal. (He couldn't help but wonder what Stella thought of brunch.)

With this knowledge in mind he really shouldn't have been terribly surprised when, a good twenty minutes after he had sat down with his first plate at their favorite brunch spot (it had a bar to go along with the brunch buffet – a novel and brilliant development for those overpowered by their burdens), another full plate of food clattered onto his table across from him.

Ted jerked his head up from his beer and pancakes (which was a lot tastier combination than it sounded) to greet his fellow sufferer. "Robin?"

Robin sat down, waved, and took a bit sip of her mimosa. "Hey Ted." She then proceeded to dig into her mountain of food with vigor.

Well, at least it was a comfort to know that he wasn't the only who had a bad night.

But Robin had just gotten a job she had been striving toward her entire professional career. Why the need for brunch?

Ted quickly complied recent events, newly acquired information and frowned.

Barney.

Of course, he couldn't be certain. Nothing was certain any more. Evidence had been submitted that Barney Stinson might actually have human emotions – ones vulnerable to the same obsessive, embarrassing and pain-inducing ways of relationships.

Or maybe not. Maybe the Barnicle really was just going through another awkward phase, like he had said.

Or maybe all this lovey dovey talk was just the excuse he needed to get what he wanted.

Ted glowered at the mere possibility.

If Barney had broken the bro-code again…

Ted shifted in his seat for a few more minutes, eventually easing his way into the topic of a certain Mr. Stinson.

"So if I ask you something right now that verges on the overly personal and weird, how would you react?"

Of course, why ease into something if you could just crash right through it?

Robin raised a nervous eyebrow. "Confusion, surprise and no small amount of intrigue." She took another bite of eggs. Or was that mashed potatoes?

Ted leaned forward. "What's up with you and Barney?"

She promptly choked on her eggs/mashed potatoes. "Me and Barney?" she coughed out. "Nothing. Not a thing." She took another gulp of her mimosa. "How about that baseball, eh?"

The Distraction Reaction – gave them away every time.

"I knew it!" Another one-night stand, then. So much for the power of love. Ted was going to make Barney cry. Maybe something that involved suits and bleach. "I knew he wouldn't be able to keep it in his pants or make good on just _one_ promise in his entire life –"

Robin's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

He gestured toward her while taking a huge bite of his sausage. "I mawd hrm prormis tr learve yrou alrone."

"You _what_?"

Ted swallowed. "I made him promise to leave –"

"I understood you, Ted."

Ted nodded in appreciation. Impressive.

Robin didn't seem to be terribly concerned with her food-in-mouth translation skills, staring at him as her eye twitched in a way that he knew couldn't be good. "What exactly do you think happened?"

He rolled his eyes at her, seemingly intentional, thickness. "Activities beyond that of the PG-13 variety."

Barney was so dead. This was the last straw. What was going to have to happen before the man started taking their friendship seriously?

Ted took another gigantic bite of sausage to work out the frustration.

More twitching ensued from Robin as she leaned forward. "Ted, nothing happened."

Ted's mouth fell open and he lost some of his sausage.

"And I can't believe that you would restrict Barney's interactions with _me_. Don't I get a say in any of this?"

Ted shook his head.

She glared.

"It's a bro thing."

She kept scowling at him, but he did his best to ignore it (no easy task, with that Canadian scowl). Women would just never get the bro code.

He had other matters of interest here. Ted shifted forward in his seat. "Wait, so if Barney didn't have sex with you and then leave before the sheets had settled, why are you at brunch?"

"I –" Robin opened and closed her mouth a few times before taking her knife and fork to her turkey. "I don't need to explain myself to you." She swallowed half of the bird right there and then.

He studied her. "It has something to do with you and Barney, I know that."

She gulped down her food (another impressive feat) and glared at him. "Hey Ted, what's happening with you and Stella?"

Ted blinked like a dear caught in the headlights for a few extended minutes. "Baseball's great."

Why was it always the stupid, infectious, _useless_, Distraction Reaction?

"Ah-ha!" Robin yelled in triumph. "That's why you're here, right? Things didn't go well last night when you tried to defend breaking up with your fiancé over Star Wars?" She laughed bitterly. "Big surprise there!"

"First," Ted muttered. "That movie's a pinnacle of our modern culture. Second, we haven't broken up, we're on a break. And third, we didn't decide to go on this break because of Star Wars." He moved on to his soup and sipped up the cream of tomato angrily.

"Then why _did_ you 'go on a break,' eh Ted?" Robin asked. "And why are you here this afternoon after you two were supposed to have your talk? Did you decide to end things because she didn't think Jurassic Park was the best novel and movie combo of the century?"

Ted took in another spoonful of soup and scowled while Robin shoved her mouth full of potatoes and glared.

The stare-off continued until they both swallowed.

Ted took a breath of air and decided to be the bigger man. "Okay, fine," he said, still eyeing Robin wearily. "I'll tell you what's really happening with Stella if you tell me what's up with you and Barney."

Robin narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You first."

"Dammit," Ted grumbled.

Robin grinned, content that her curiosity was about to be satisfied, and sat up eagerly in her seat while munching on mixed vegetables. "Spril Morsby."

He took a breath. "I love Stella."

Robin nodded and swallowed. "You better – she has a great shoe collection to borrow from and I'd hate to lose it."

He scratched at his hair, frowning. "But it's not –"

"Yes?" Robin asked with a smug lit, fork poised over more turkey.

Oh no. He wasn't going to have any of that self-satisfied arrogance while he spilled the beans on the details of his private life. He leaned back into his chair. "Your turn."

She frowned. "What?"

"This is a give and take thing we're doing here. I've given a little." He motioned toward her. "Now it's your turn."

Robin glared.

"It's fair!"

With a sigh she set down her fork and regarded him seriously. "I like Barney – we all do, right?" She paused, gathering her thoughts. "But lately I've noticed that I might –" she held up an emphasizing finger, "- _might_, like him in ways that go against my better judgment."

Ted tilted his head in interest. "How so?"

Robin laughed. "Oh, no." She nodded to him leadingly. "Sing it."

He sighed and braced himself. "I love Stella, but it's not the same way that I love you guys."

Robin opened her mouth, only to be met with Ted's challenging smirk.

She rolled her eyes. "Barney's a good person," she began. "But he's not exactly an outstanding citizen you point out proudly to the world as one of your best friends."

"I'll do anything for Marshall, Lily, you, Barney," Ted obligingly continued. "But I can't give up a movie for the woman I'm about to marry." He held up a halting hand at the snicker he knew was building in Robin. "Granted that it's an awesome movie that we shouldn't make light of."

Robin smirked, shook her head, and got on with her own end of the bargain. "He says he loves me."

Ted's eyes widened.

"Oh, stop that," Robin said dismissively. "He told _Lily_. Of course I know."

Ted shrugged. It was true. The Eriksens didn't have a secretive bone in either of their bodies. It would have been embarrassing if it wasn't so repulsively adorable of them.

Robin frowned. "But it doesn't really matter, does it? I mean, is Barney actually capable of loving another person for more than the few hours it takes to get them undressed and take care of business?" She shook herself slightly.

Ted took another large gulp of air, knowing that what he was going to say next, the hard parts, needed his full attention. "I love Stella." And he really, truly did. "And I think she's great. But she's not my friend, not the way you guys are." He sighed. "Not yet."

Robin, similarly wrapped up in her thoughts, turned to him with something that almost looked like hope. "But the fact that Barney's said anything about it – that means something, doesn't it?"

"And she's noticed – we both have – that what she and I have, it isn't the same as what we have as a group. None of the little things…" He ran a hand through his hair. "And she's upset, for perfectly valid reasons. I am too"

"But what if it doesn't?" Robin rubbed at her forehead. "What if this… crush is just something he's working through?"

Ted gazed dejectedly down at his food. "I don't know, this far into the relationship, if I have the right to guarantee a true friendship will develop with Stella when I'm not completely positive it will."

"What if he snaps out of it in a week and he realizes that he hasn't changed at all?" She let out a bitter laugh. "That all he wants is a new lady friend for the night every night of the rest of his life?"

"And how can I marry a woman I won't always put first, even before you guys?" He looked up to Robin desperately. "How can I do that to someone I love?" What could be worse than marrying someone who didn't love you in every way they could?

Robin's eyes remained locked on her plate. "What if I'm falling in love with him when he only thinks he's in love with me?"

Ted's eyes went wide.

As soon as the words left her mouth Robin's gaze shot upward and she clamped a hand over her mouth.

And with that confession, the complex situation became infinitely more convoluted.

She slowly lowered her hand, sputtering, explaining. "I mean – not _love_ love, obviously." She forced a laugh. "Just… friendly love." Robin coughed out another laugh before giving up and resting her head in her hands.

She shot Ted a small, bitter smirk from under her fingers. "Which is apparently something you and Stella could do with more of."

Why was it that everybody seemed to have an exasperating excess of love to go around, but not one of them had managed to put it in the right places?

Ted let out a huge sigh. "Wow."

"Yeah," Robin agreed. She looked up to him again. "What're we going to do, Ted?"

"Eat," he said. It was brunch, after all. Complex, convoluted situations were exactly what brunch was there for. "We're going to eat and drink a whole hell of a lot until things start making sense again." With that he picked up his knife and fork and set to work on his first gigantic plate.

Robin grinned. "I think the drinking might be counter-productive to that."

"Shush now and sip your mimosa."


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: The Distraction Reaction (3/3)  
**Characters**: The Gang, Barney/Robin, Ted/Stella, Marshall/Lily  
**Word Count**: 7,582  
**Rating**: PG  
**Disclaimer**: Not mine. -sniff-  
**Spoilers**: Takes place three days after 4x02, "The Best Burger in New York." Spoilers up until then!  
**Summary**: _As far as defensive reactions went, The Distraction Reaction was, decidedly, the least effective. The equivalent to throwing the dog a bone when you had a sirloin steak in-hand, any idiot could have told her that it just wasn't going to work out._  
**Author's Notes**: The conclusion! Tis here! This was a blast to write. -grin- AU from 4x03. Still newish to the fandom and still no beta, so any concrit would be more than welcome. Thanks everybody for your support and time!

--

**FIVE DAYS LATER (PARTY NIGHT)**

Lily was a machine.

A pastry-making, chip and dip setting, streamer hanging machine.

The end result had been a little terrifying. Over the span of ten wonderful and horrific hours the apartment had been transformed. There were streamers on every rafter, glittery, stringy things hanging from the ceiling and an abundance of party-hats. Oh, and Marshall's wife had become a she-demon the likes of which Jaba the Hutt had nightmares about.

"Don't touch that!"

Ted yanked his hand away from the bowl of chips enticingly displayed on their coffee table. "But, I –"

Lily snorted and Marshall almost thought he saw steam come out of her flaring nostrils. "Not. Until. Robin's. Here."

Ted held his hands up in surrender and slowly backed away from the finger-food.

Parties took a lot out of Lily. Specifically, they took out her goodness and love for mankind.

Marshall, however, was used to this. Prepared as he was, he stood meekly in a corner with his head lowered in submission so that the Lily party-demon would overlook him as a non-threat to the perfect pre-party atmosphere.

Ted, after his first brief encounter, mimicked him, inching closer and whispering, "What's wrong with Lily?"

Marshall shook his head. "That's not Lily."

Ted raised an eyebrow.

"That's the Lily party-demon."

"Oh," Ted nodded. "Gotcha." With that he joined Marshall in his calm, meek, and not at all disruptive vigil.

As for Barney… Well, there wasn't much happening with Barney.

He was sitting dejectedly on the couch, staring at his hands, and looking pretty miserable all-around.

Of course it was obvious as to why, which anybody with a half a brain could see. Except for maybe Ted, whose brain was too busy being conflicted with doubt and guilt involving Stella to notice.

The woman that Barney loved was about to go to California, maybe forever, and he didn't imagine that there was anything he could do about it. Of course there was something he _could_ do, but Barney never would, due to his various attachment issues and deluded perception of god-like awesomeness.

Marshall resisted the urge to huff in annoyance. Between Barney and Robin and Ted and Stella, it was like high school drama club all over again. Except with fewer pimples. (Acne had sucked, big time.)

Two minutes to seven Lily hurled herself out of the kitchen and bustled over to the boys in the corner. "In front of the door."

Marshall and Ted sent each other a nervous glance.

"NOW!"

They scurried in the front of the door.

Lily stomped over to Barney, her tone gentling slightly as she neared him. "Barney, sweetie?"

Barney raised his head and proceeded to look forlorn.

"Honey, I know that you're hurting right now and that the last thing you want to do is pretend to be happy."

Barney nodded his head miserably at Lily.

"But you know what, Barney?" she asked, smile growing hard. "I don't care." She tugged him up by the arm and pulled him over with the other boys.

"Robin's going to be here in…" She looked at her watch. "Fifty-three seconds, and if you aren't smiling and screaming out surprise when she gets here, I'm going to beat your head in with a wooden spoon. Understand?"

Barney obediently plastered an enthusiastic smile on his face, eyes darting to Marshall in terror.

Marshall nodded in warning from behind Lily.

Oh, she was serious. His head still hurt from that time she threw a baby-shower and he didn't rub the mother's belly with enough gusto.

Barney's smile got bigger.

Lily grinned in satisfaction. "Good!" She turned to the door, eyes on her watch. "Ten seconds left." She shot them all one final glare, "Remember – we're happy."

Ted, Marshall and Barney all quickly agreed.

"Yes, happy. This is happiness. Woo hoo!"

"Happier than the happiest person ever."

"If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands!" A chorus of clapping ensued.

Lily nodded in satisfaction and returned her attention to the door just as the knob started to turn.

Robin entered, already looking startled before she had completely opened up the door.

Everyone understood that when Lily was throwing a party, there were certain roles that had to be played. And if they weren't done properly, the end result would be violence.

Nobody liked a violent Lily.

"SURPRISE!"

Robin gasped, oo-ed, and aw-ed at the decorations, and marveled at the elaborate display of food.

"Guys, this is too much."

Lily blushed and grinned. "I know." She shoved a piece of pre-cut cake at Robin. "Here, take some cake."

"Oh, thanks Lily, but I just got back from leaving the Metro News One party." Robin sent her a regretful smile. "I'm a little stuffed."

Lily's eye twitched dangerously. "Shut up and eat your cake Robin, or I swear to God…"

Robin quickly yanked the cake out of Lily's hands and started eating. "Yummy! Delicious!"

Lily nodded in satisfaction and began to hand out more pieces of cake, Barney and Ted both faking the utmost eagerness, while Robin backed away slowly until she was ducking behind Marshall "Hide me!"

"It's okay," Marshall reassured her. "The Lily party-demon will fade in ten, twenty minutes, tops."

Robin peeked her head over his shoulder, eyeing Lily with fear. "We just have to survive until then."

They sent one another a nervous look and prepared for the worst.

After fifteen more minutes of having food shoved down their throats, various threatening snarls being sent their way, and a few dangerous finger jabs, Lily lost the maniacal gleam in her eye and started being human again.

Then, settled around the coffee table, they talked properly about Robin's impending trip.

"Caal-i-fooornia," Barney sang as they finished off their second bottle of wine. "Hear we cooooooooom-!"

"Barney, don't make me stab you," Lily (a bit of the madness returning) snapped at him.

Barney gulped. "Sorry, Lily."

Marshall smiled fondly at his lovely she-demon of a wife (Lily, even at her most inhuman, was always the most amazing person in any given situation. She was even almost as good as Han Solo – which was saying something) before turning to Robin. "Will you be blonde when you come back?"

Ted adopted a surfer accent. "And, like, will you like have a tubular tan, man?"

Robin laughed. "Guys, it's just a weekend tour."

There was a beat of silence as they considered this statement.

Ted shook his head. "You're going to be a completely different person when you get back."

Robin rolled her eyes even as Lily nodded in agreement.

"It'll be like when you went to Mexico, except less bongo drums and more surfing."

Surfing!

Marshall gasped in excitement and tried not to bounce too eagerly in his seat. "Will you teach me how to surf?"

Robin raised an eyebrow. "If I can learn how to in the two days I've got filled with studio stuff?"

Oh please oh please oh please!

She sighed. "Sure Marshall, I'll teach you how to surf."

Sweet!

Marshall looked around to the others, wanting some affirmation of just how magnificent the idea of surfing was, only to be met with lackluster stares. Except for Barney, who didn't seem to be paying much attention to anyone, eyes fixed onto his wine glass. Oh, he laughed at all the right times and threw in an annoying remark now and then, but the guy's heart just wasn't in it.

Something had to be done.

Marshall just wasn't entirely sure what that something was quite yet.

Robin glanced down to her watch and winced, finishing off her glass of wine. "Oh, crap, I have to leave." She gathered her purse and stood up. "I've got to run to my apartment, pick up my bags, and make to the airport in three hours."

Everyone else reluctantly go to their feet to send her off.

No one wanted Robin to leave – not really. Yeah, it was only for a weekend and yeah, it didn't mean anything. But this was _a step_ of some sort, a step in a direction that no one was entirely comfortable with. Robin leaving, even temporarily, meant that their group was unraveling. Moving off in different directions – growing up.

And, really, who wanted to do that?

Lily sprang forward and gave Robin a hug. "Bye!" she said, smiling at her best friend. "Take pictures, of-" She sent Marshall a small look out of the corner of her eye. "You know."

"Hot young men on the beach?" Robin asked, lacking all tact.

Lily grinned. "Exactly!"

Robin winked. "You got it."

So long as she didn't actually say it, Lily thought her desire to stare at barely-legal muscled men didn't actually count. Not that Marshall minded, exactly. They both knew there was only one Marshmellow for his Lilypad.

Still, a farce of sensitivity would have been nice.

He gave Robin a hug as she continued the rounds. "Surfing!" he insisted. (He was going to learn how to be one with waves!) "Learn it. Teach it. Live it."

She nodded seriously. "I'll do my best."

Then she got to Ted, and they did their awkward friends _with significant history_ thing, that weird state where you could both be more honest with somebody and less so at the same time.

"Clear your head, okay?" Ted said, punching her gently on the arm in a way that only looked a little uncomfortable.

She smiled, mimicking the gesture in a similarly uncertain way. "You too, Mosby."

And then they hugged, and were generally aww-able.

Marshall nodded in approval and put on his wise and all knowing persona. They'd be okay, those two… So long as they got Robin to watch more Star Wars.

And finally, the California-bound reporter got to Barney.

And if watching Robin and Ted's goodbye had been awkward, this was just painful.

"Bye, Barney," she said, staring at him with… something.

Barney shuffled in place, lifting his head up to grin at her with… something else. "Bye."

The entire room proceeded to notice the silence that ensued.

Finally, Robin reached forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, gave him a squeeze, and then fled across the room.

"All right," she said as she reached the door. "I'm off!" She gave them all a wave. "See you in a few days!"

A chorus of 'byes' followed her out the door.

And then everyone turned to stare disbelievingly at Barney.

He blinked. "What?" He let out a strained laugh and backed away from them, leaning against the fireplace. "Guys, the way you're looking at me is making me question exactly how awesome I am, and we all know that's ridiculous."

"'Bye'?" Lily demeaned, stalking up to him. "She's leaving, heading across the country, and all you have to say for yourself is, 'bye'?" She smacked him on the shoulder.

Barney winced and rubbed the attacked spot. "It was succinct and to the point!" he insisted, looking at Ted and Marshall for support.

He didn't find any.

He glared. "Stop judging me with your eyes of condemnation and… judgment!" He shrugged in a way that almost looked careless.

Unfortunately, no one had told Barney that he wasn't able to fool them anymore.

"She's only gone for two days and then she's coming right back!"

Marshall just shook his head sadly. "That was your moment, man."

"She was giving you the signal and everything!" Lily added.

"There is no such thing as the signal!" Barney yelled, throwing up his arms in annoyance.

"Yes there is," Ted said, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at his friend seriously. "And you missed it."

"You too?" Barney scoffed. "I thought you wanted me to stay away from Robin?"

Ted sighed. "Yeah well, that was before I realized that you were watching tapes of her from old broadcasts."

"And that you sit next to her no matter where we go and get flustered when she talks to you," Marshall added.

"And that you maintain eye contact even when she's in the slinkiest dresses." Lily let out a small whistle of appreciation. "No easy task, let me tell you."

"And how you're absolutely, pathetically and totally in love with Robin," Ted concluded.

Barney gaped for a few moments while they all stared at him expectantly.

At last, he let out a small cough and straightened his tie. "So what about this economy lately, eh?"

They all groaned.

It was such a sad attempt at The Distraction Reaction, it wasn't even worth a verbal reprimand.

"Go after her!" Lily told him, hitting him again on the arm.

Barney sputtered a moment before snapping his fingers. "What about the bro code?"

Lily rolled her eyes. "Oh, forget about the stupid bro code!"

"Yeah!" Ted agreed. Then he frowned and looked to Lily in betrayal. "Hey!"

The bro code was, after all, a sacred document.

Lily shrugged. "Well, he should!"

"Barney, some things transcend the bro code," Marshall said, getting his lawyer on. "Exceptions can be made."

"No," Barney said, fighting his way past them and moving in front of the door. "No!" he repeated, turning back to them and glaring. "Guys, she's not even interested."

Barney paused, and Marshall had to wonder if it was caused due to longing… Or maybe to uncertainty? Because Marshall – in all of his wise, guru-ways – suspected that Robin Scherbatsky wasn't nearly as disinterested as she would like to believe she was. No one had a hug so socially excruciating unless there was mutual longing, doubt and all of that twisty, complicated, emotional stuff underlining it all. (Plus there was what Ted had said about what happened at brunch. That had also been informative.)

And maybe, just maybe, Barney had noticed that too.

Marshall and Ted exchanged a knowing glance (and Marshall didn't care what Ted said – his best friend was as much of a secret whore as the rest of them), but in the next instant, before they could say anything, Barney had let out a sigh. "And why the hell should she be?"

He looked up to see the shocked faces of his friends.

Barney and self-doubt? Lily looked like she was about faint.

Barney recovered quickly, letting out a confident chuckle. "Don't get me wrong, I'm awesome. Way more awesome than any of you… lame people." He stared at the ground, frowning. "But Robin doesn't want somebody like me." He looked back up at them quickly, throwing on another smirking face for show. "Somebody like me being, namely, everything beyond her wildest dreams, of course."

Lily stepped forward. "Barney, you're better when you're with her."

He looked at her helplessly. "But I can't be with her, Lily." His gaze hardened. "So just drop it." He shot a severe glance at Marshall and Ted. "Everybody just drop it." He sighed. "She'll come back in two days and everything will be just the way it was before, and then she'll move to California and I'll never see her again and everything will be back to normal, okay?" He put on a smirk. "The same old life. Barney Stinson – connoisseur of awesomeness and bimbos."

He looked off into some imagined distance, posing with his usual swagger, determined. "It'll be legendary."

Lily huffed next to him, and from his corner of the room, Ted allowed a resigned nod. Defeated, in more than one sense.

Marshall let out an internal grumble.

Bother.

He was going to have to drop some knowledge again, wasn't he?

Resigned, Marshall stepped forward and glared at Barney. "No, it won't."

Distracted out of his fantasy, Barney turned to him and frowned. "Pardon?"

"It won't be 'legendary,'" Marshall clarified. "And the problem isn't that you can't be with her, it's that you won't try."

From his corner, Ted shifted uncomfortably.

Marshall was, after all, an efficient guy. This was a speech of wisdom that was being dropped for two pairs of ears.

And Ted knew it. "Marshall –" he began.

"No," Marshall interrupted. "I've got something to say."

Out of the corner of his eye, Marshall saw Lily grin.

She loved it when he got all manly and wise. And he loved her loving him.

Reassured, Marshall braced himself and faced the most moronic emotional retard in the history of modern society.

"Barney, you're scared."

Barney opened up his mouth in denial.

"You are."

The mouth snapped closed at Marshall's certainty.

"Everyone is when they're in love, and for good damn reason. It's never perfect, and if you think it is you're tricking yourself to make it easier." He shot Ted a significant glance. "Love doesn't just happen – you have earn it."

Ted lowered his eyes, frowning at the floor.

Marshall turned back to Barney. "And yeah, sometimes it doesn't work out. But when it does, when you get to be with the one person who you know loves you unselfishly and completely, it's worth everything you could have risked trying to get them and more." He fixed Barney with a hard stare. "But you have to work at it." He took a breath and squared his shoulders. "So I'm not letting you sit around while the woman you love takes off on a plane and doesn't come back."

For an instant – when Barney's face was still and shocked, contemplative and hopeful – Marshall dared to think that he might have gotten through Barney's thick, nearly impenetrable, skull.

But then Barney had his smirk back in place, scoffing. "Marshall, please, like I believe some crap –"

So, Marshall strode forward, whipped out his hand, and slapped Barney Stinson so hard that his great great grandchildren would be feeling it. (Of course, the only reason Barney's great great grandchildren would get to feel said slap would be because of this very moment, so Marshall figured they could deal with it.)

Barney staggered to the floor, hand to cheek, and eyes wide as he looked up at Marshall towering over him.

"That's four," Marshall said, holding up four fingers. He pointed to the door. "Now go get Robin."

Slowly, Barney stood up, looking from Marshall to the door, and then finally to his watch on his wrist.

And suddenly a new determination took a hold of Barney Stinson, an internal transformation so profound that Marshall swore he physically saw the change.

Barney Stinson was going to win Robin Scherbatsky's heart, and make a grand fool of himself doing it, too.

Marshall grinned happily. He loved it when his plans worked out. "That'll be five bucks, by the way," he told Barney, who was still staring at his watch.

The slap-shocked man glanced at him. "Huh?"

"I'm charging," Marshall explained. "Marshall Eriksen – Guru of Love and Mushy Stuff." He held up an expectant hand. "Pay up."

He still had a week until he started work at Goliath, and Marshall wanted more goldfish.

Barney distractedly dug into his pocket, pulled out a wad of bills, and shoved it in Marshall's hand. "Here, take it all." He walked to the door. "I've gotta go."

And with that he was running out of the apartment.

Objective number one had been completed, but now it was time to evaluate the success of his secondary target.

Marshall turned to his best friend, still staring at his shoes in the corner, and raised an eyebrow. "Ted?"

Ted's head jerked up.

"Don't you have somewhere you need to be, too?"

"Yeah." Ted nodded. "Yeah, I do." With that he followed the trail Barney just finished blazing.

Until Marshall yelled at him. "Hey!"

Ted rolled his eyes, put a hand into his pocket, and shoved a five-dollar bill at Marshall.

Marshall nodded in satisfaction and Ted ran out of the room.

Smiling, he counted his hard-won earnings. "Kids," he muttered before sticking the money in a pocket.

From behind him, Lily wrapped her arms around his middle and grinned into his shirt. "It's a good thing they've got you to set them straight."

He turned around and rested his hands on her back, still marveling - even after eleven years - at how tiny she was.

She smirked. "All thanks to my influence, of course."

"Yeah, and my zen-like guru-ways." His hours of meditation had obviously paid off.

She nodded. "And those, obviously."

She grinned up at him and he smiled back, running a quick hand through her hair and wondering, again, how he had been lucky enough to get this girl to want his olives. "Love you, Lilypad."

"I love you too, Marshmellow." She went up on tiptoes, and he obligingly bent down to give her a kiss.

He pulled away and she grinned. "Almost as much as I love Han."

He gave a firm nod. "And don't you forget it." Really, no one could compete with Han.

He slung an arm over her shoulder and they made their way to the kitchen. He could feel that Lily was hungry (sympathy hunger – it was a pain) and anything that she had touched in preparation for the party made her (them) want to gag.

Speaking of gagging… "Did you know that Ted's afraid of drinking fountains?" she remarked as he opened up the fridge.

"Really? Nice." Lily wanted something classic and homey, so he pulled out leftover macaroni and cheese. "Not as impressive as Robin's mustache, though."

**ONE HOUR AND FOURTY MINUTES LATER**

Why did New Jersey have to be so far away?

Why did Marshall have to be right all of the time?

And why was Ted such a moron?

Stella was amazing. Lucy was amazing. They were amazing together. And he had managed to screw that all up. So now it was time to start making things right. He just hoped that it wasn't too late.

And so, a train ride and long walk later, Ted was outside of Stella's house, knocking on her door, and praying she'd let him in. A person only gets so many chances at this kind of thing, and Ted was terrified that he didn't have any more left.

"Stella!" He banged on the door, feeling obnoxious. Lucy was at a friend's house for a sleepover this weekend, so that was good, but he was still screaming at a closed door in the middle of the night in a perfectly serene suburban neighborhood.

The really obnoxious thing was that he didn't intend on sopping until he got a response.

How was it that he always managed to feel like a jackass when he was trying to woo a girl? He used to see it as dogged determination, but really, it could all come off as obnoxious, couldn't it?

Well, too bad.

Because being obnoxious seemed to be the only way to get the attention of the most amazing women. "Stella, I know you're in there!" He paused in his banging and heard a small shuffle on the other side of the door.

Success!

He leaned against the wood and spoke to the woman on the other side. "Look, I just want to talk."

"We've already tried that, Ted." She sounded so tired.

Not even married, but exhausted by him already.

Why hadn't he been able to hear that before?

"Not like this," he said. Because before he had been able identify what had been wrong without being willing to try and make right. Because Marshall had a point. Love didn't just happen, wasn't instantly magical. It had to be earned, worked for.

"I was an idiot," he continued. "I _am_ an idiot. I have been since that accident and I think it might have –" He took a breath, slowing down. "Listen, I don't want to marry you."

There was a heartbreaking gasp from the other side of the door. "Oh."

Oh, crap.

"No!" Ted shouted quickly, feeling like a moron.

Jackass!

He needed to learn to be more careful with these sorts of things.

"Not like that! I don't want to get married _yet_."

He heard the nearly silent hitching of breath ease on the other side of the door, even while he felt a soft thump against the wood – her forehead, slumped against the frame.

Ted wished he could see her. It would all be so much better if he could just get her to open the door – to be able to look into her eyes and _make_ her believe him. But, maybe he had to earn that too.

"Stella, I haven't done anything to deserve marrying you."

Ted braced himself, taking the plunge, letting himself fall face-first into what could be a jolting and unfortunate dive into the shallow end of a relationship that might not work out.

And it was exhilarating.

"I love you. You're amazing, and funny and smart. Plus you're a doctor with convenient tattoo-removing abilities that I know I'll need to utilize come mid-life crisis time."

She laughed.

He loved hearing her laugh.

"I don't want to let you go, not ever if I can help it." He sighed. "But I've been doing this all wrong. I've been selfish. I wanted to get married three months ago because I thought I could die without having you in my life. I couldn't stand the thought of a future – however brief – that you wouldn't be in. And so I rushed us. I skipped all of those difficult middle-steps that make this relationship thing so hard and so worth having." He paused. "By the way, do you like olives?"

"Yeah," she replied, tone confounded.

Ted grinned. "Me too!" Just like Lily and Marshall. "That's great, we'll have an olive-filled future together." He gave a nervous laugh. "Hopefully, anyway." He shuffled his feet. "Look, I jumped over all of the small things you do so that the person you love becomes your best friend, and that's what everyone wants, right?"

He thought about himself and Robin, about Barney. About Lily and Marshall. About how, no matter what, they'd all be friends in spite of what happened, because before anything else, they had been friends. Something more basic than the messy, love stuff, but maybe just as important.

And he wanted Stella to be his friend.

But it wasn't just that. Because being married wasn't just about having a best friend – it was about being one too.

"By proposing I left out the tough parts, and by doing that I forgot the most important thing."

He almost felt Stella frown through the door, could sense her unease and uncertainty even without being able to see her. Maybe that's how Lily and Marshall did their magical emotion and thought sharing. Maybe they made the effort to stay attuned to each other, consciously decided to put the other's thoughts, always, before their own.

Maybe it wasn't magic at all.

Ted took another deep breath.

"I already know that I love you and that I don't want to live without you, Stella."

He couldn't see it, but he knew that she grinned.

"But I'm not marrying you until I've made sure you don't want to live without me either."

And then, just for an instant, Stella stopped breathing.

Ted slumped his head against the door. "And you know, maybe it won't work out. And that would suck. But at least we'd know that, even if we don't get married, for a while there we really had that deep, messy, passionate, difficult, unselfish love that's worth risking everything for." He breathed against the wood, able to feel their distance and their proximity, simultaneously so close and so far from contact. "Even if it means not getting married to you at all."

He went down on one-knee, proposing to a closed door. "Stella Zinman, will you not marry me?" He winced at his own wording.

Jackass!

"Well, at least, not right now?"

He waited.

He waited long enough to consider getting up and going home.

And then, slowly, the door cracked open.

"Yes."

**TWENTY MINUTES LATER**

Robin loved the sun. And she loved attractive men lounging on beaches. She loved her job, she loved success, and she loved the opportunities that were being made open to her with this position.

But Robin also loved her friends. And New York. And she also might care a bit about something stupid that would remain nameless for the time being, just for her own shaky mental state.

Because Robin had been clutching her carry-on to her chest in terror for the past hour, ever since she had arrived at her terminal.

She didn't know why. It was a small, little, weekend tour. It meant nothing! A quick pop there, a quick pop back. No decisions of any kind had been made yet. After all, she could still take the job at the New York station, if she wanted to, if it ended up being the smart decision to make.

Yet for all of that, ten minutes before her plane started boarding, Robin couldn't seem to ignore every instinct screaming at her not to go, even while her head kept sending her perfectly rational reassurances. But that other organ – the one with the goo-goo filter and terrible taste in movies – was determined to make Robin do something stupid.

Something stupid who would remain nameless for the time being.

('Bye'? That was all she had said? Just 'bye'? What about that night, at her apartment? What about how he thought he felt about her? What about how she might feel about him?)

Clearly, Robin's irrational terror was all the work of the goo-goo filter. None of those… _things_ really mattered in the grand scheme of it all. Besides, she had a formula to work with. Action led to reaction, led to success, led to happiness. Everything else was simply excess – extra stuff she didn't need and that would only cause trouble later. Now it was just a matter of making sure her head won the internal battle taking place, and to do that she would have to calm down and act like an adult.

An adult about to spend two days in California getting tan on the beach, obviously, but an adult nevertheless.

She had just started to loosen her death-grip on her bag when a familiar voice sounded from behind her.

"Robin?"

For a moment, she was convinced she had imagined it. The last, desperate attempt of the goo-goo filter to cause her to stray from her path of logic.

But then it happened again.

"Robin!"

She jerked herself around and he, that something stupid who wouldn't remain nameless much longer, was staring back at her, panting and breathless, like he had run to get there.

"Barney?" She dropped her bag, stood up out of her seat, and walked over to him. "Barney, what are you doing here? My flight's about to leave." She frowned when she saw that the entire left side of his face was bright red. Either he had gotten an impressive sunburn in the middle of the night, or something had smacked him. Hard. "What happened to your face?" She almost reached out a hand to touch him – almost.

Barney ignored her. "Look, Robin, I forgot to say something back at the party."

"So you followed me all the way to the airport?"

He smirked. "It's a very important something."

In spite of herself, she smiled. "Well?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

He began. "Robin –" And then halted. Looked around frantically, like he trying to find something that could stop him, something that he could use that wouldn't be what he had been about to say.

It was a terrible thing to witness – The Distraction Reaction failing in someone's time of need.

And so Barney shut his eyes, winced, and let out a pained, "I love you."

Robin was shocked into silence.

Oh, she had heard it before, of course. She just never thought that she would ever hear it from him.

With that, Barney seemed to relax slightly. He took a deep breath and said, "And it's the worst thing that's ever happened to me."

Robin frowned. Not exactly the words a girl wanted to hear immediately following a confession of love.

Barney ran a hand through his hair before looking her directly in the eye. "I wake up in the morning and I can't stop thinking about you. I can't pick out a tie to wear without wondering how you'd like it. The only thing I drink now is scotch because I know that it's your favorite." He looked at her severely, enunciating every word. "I've watched every single minute you've been on Metro News One at least three times, and if that's not equivalent to some brand of medieval torture, I don't know what is. I check out some girl's rack and I think, 'Not as good as Robin's.'" He gave her an acknowledging nod. "Which isn't just me being flattering, that's actually true."

She grinned.

"I keep two cigars in my jacket at all times, hoping that there'll be an excuse for me to give you one." He opened up his jacket and went searching through the inner pocket, finally pulling out the cigars. "See?"

She did – and those were some damn nice looking smokes.

He sighed, patting the cigars back into place and looking at her desperately. "You're in my head all the time and I can't get you out." He let out a bitter snort. "And I've tried. God, I've tried." He locked eyes with her again. "I've become an inept, bumbling fool because of you, Scherbatsky."

She rolled her eyes.

"I'm serious," he insisted. "My score on the awesomeness scale has decreased by at least half here. That makes me close to a mere mortal, you realize." He sighed, still staring at her. "But you won't leave me alone."

She wouldn't leave him alone? What about him? Keeping her up at night, making her question her decisions, making her vision get all gooey and her better senses go stupid on her.

Barney took another large breath. "So I love you." He sighed in annoyance. "And it's not a sickness, or phase and it's not going away," he muttered, almost seeming to be frustrated with himself for that, before turning his full attention back to her. "So I thought I should let you know."

And for a minute, nothing else happened. He looked at her, heart on his sleeve for perhaps the first time, and she looked at him, too shocked for words.

And then, he broke eye contact, staring at his shoes. "Yeah." He coughed. "And, um. I think that's it actually, so I'll, uh." He gestured to the uninterested masses waiting to board her flight. "Let you leave with all these nice people."

With that he gave her a smile – the real one – clasped his hands behind his back, and started to quickly walk away, almost like he was afraid of what she would do if he stayed around.

Even though she did want him to stay. Even if she shouldn't, even if it would be stupid, even if she still had no way of knowing if Barney was just deluding himself.

But whatever she might have wanted, he was going away, and her head was rejoicing in victory as her heart sunk.

Her better judgment had won, in the end. Barney Stinson was walking out of her life and she was going across the country, free of him for a few days, maybe free of him forever.

But the battle was still raging, and before she fully knew what she was doing, she had called him back.

Without her consent, the mushy organ without a lick of sense had taken control, and Robin suspected that her revamped formula for happiness was about to include something stupid.

**FOUR SECONDS LATER**

"Why?"

Barney stopped his frantic retreat to raise an eyebrow at the woman he had just poured his heart out to. (An exercise that felt icky and gross and terrifying, and something he had no intention of ever doing again. Stupid Marshall and his guru ways.)

"Excuse me?"

To be fair, Robin looked as startled by her question as he felt.

But, committed, she continued. "Why do you love me?"

He had just told her he loved her – with more honesty, compassion and sincerity than he had ever mustered for any one statement in his entire life – and now she wanted to know _why_?

This was why he didn't do the earnestness thing. If you showed women one morsel of genuine emotion they got all greedy and demanding with it. (He couldn't believe Marshall had slapped him – with more force than a raging typhoon, he might add – into this.)

Clearly noticing his reluctance, Robin had the nerve to cock a hip and smirk at him. "Come on Stinson."

She was awfully cheeky, wasn't she? (He loved that about her.)

"If you're going to do this 'confessing your love' thing, you better do it right. Why do you love me?" she demanded. "Why not one of the other bimbos you had a night of fun with? Why me?"

And the answer seemed so obvious that it was completely natural for him to respond.

"Because you're smart," he said, walking back toward her. "I can't trick you into doing anything. I can bribe you, maybe, but I need a whole hell lot of money to do it." Seriously. He had gone broke, the first year he had known her, trying to get her to say ridiculous things on air. "Because you like laser tag and guns." And she was a much better shot than either Ted or Marshall. Combined. "Because everything you do, not just the way you look, is beautiful without you trying." Although, that being said, he never wanted to see her with her mustache. "Because you're confident and smart, and you know how amazing you are without anyone needing to tell you." Even if she clearly enjoyed hearing it. "Because you recognize what a girl Ted is." And yet she had dated him anyway. Barney still didn't get that.

He sighed, standing close enough so that his breath made her hair move against her cheek, close enough to take in every bit of her. "You're just awesome, okay Scherbatsky?"

He couldn't decipher, just then, the way she was looking at him. Eyes big and wide, staring directly into his, mouth open just slightly, almost dazed. And Barney could feel, even if he didn't know how, that something big was about to happen.

"Barney, I think –"

Then the loud speaker came on. "I think they're seating my section." With that, she started retreating.

"Oh, no," Barney said, following her as she went to pick up her bag.

She was not going to deprive him of his Something Big. Not after all of that emotional crap he had just put himself through.

"Wait." He jumped in front of her, blocking her progress to the line for boarding. "You were going to say something."

Robin glanced over his shoulder, trying to avoid him. "No I wasn't." She made a move to walk past him.

He grabbed her arms. "Scherbatsky, please. Don't try it. My skills are such that The Distraction Reaction doesn't even register with me." He leaned in, staring directly at her, forcing her to stare back. "What were you going to say?"

She turned away, looking at the ground. "Nothing, it was nothing."

Was Robin blushing?

"No it wasn't." Barney studied her, head tilting in interest.

Robin never blushed, or at least not that he noticed. Not once, in all the time he had known her, with all the dirty things he had said and every inappropriate innuendo he had attempted throughout the years. She didn't get embarrassed about sex, was too confident to be humiliated when she didn't something ridiculous. No, the only things that ever made Scherbatsky uncomfortable were feelings she thought were absurd.

Which, really, could only mean one thing.

"You love me back!"

Robin's head jerked up and her cheeks, already tinged, positively burned. "What? No."

Barney continued to smirk.

"No!" She huffed, shouldering her bag and finally pushing past him, even more desperate to avoid him. "You wish, Stinson."

Barney bounded forward to keep up with her, seemingly incapable of wiping the smile of his face. "You love me." Honestly, his jaw had somehow been wired that way in the past two minutes.

"You know what?" Robin muttered, finally turning back to him as people continued to board the plane around them, utterly uninterested. "You can just shut up now."

He nodded understandingly at her. "Robin, it's okay. I'm really awesome. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

She made a few puttering sounds of indignation before finally pointing an accusatory finger at him. "I don't need to take this." She put down her finger and fiddled with her bag at her side. "Now, I'm going to get on my plane and-"

He never found out what she was going to do once she was on her plane, because realizing what he had to do to shut her up, Barney had brought a hand to Robin's face, bent down, and kissed her.

With tongue.

They came up gasping for air.

"God, that felt good," Robin said.

Barney smirked in satisfaction.

Yes. He was that good.

"What was it that you were saying?"

She glared at him. "Shut up." And then she yanked him forward by the lapels of his jacket and kissed him.

Also with tongue.

And Barney, in all of his infinite experience with the fairer sex, had to admit that nothing in his life up until then had felt as good as being kissed by a Robin Scherbatsky who loved him.

Suddenly, mid twisty-tongue action, Robin jerked him away, her accusatory finger back out again. (He had a feeling he would learn to love that finger as much as he loved the rest of her.)

"This isn't resolved, you know."

Barney nodded his head eagerly. "I know."

She continued to eye him severely, hands still twisted into the fabric of his jacket. (He hoped she never stopped touching him.) "You don't just get to kiss me and have all of the problems go away."

"To be fair, you definitely initiated that second lip-locking incident." He grinned as Robin's cheeks flared again. (He hadn't even known she could blush, and now he wanted nothing more than to make her do so as often as possible.) "Taking charge and being in command. The Barnicle approves."

She blinked pointedly at him, emphasizing each word with a tiny shake. "We're not done talking here."

"Had we started talking?"

She looked like she wanted to be mad, she really did, but instead she smiled, leaned forward, and kissed him again, but now with less desperation. Languid and controlled, like she was tasting him, learning him, getting intimately accustomed to something she would be coming back to and picking up again later.

Barney was only too happy to taste back.

Eventually (regretfully), she pulled away again, resting her forehead on his. "And I still need to go to California."

"Right," Barney said, adjusting as nervously as possible without encouraging her to move in any way. (He liked having so much of his body so close to hers in such a casual way – it was an intimacy, a comfort, he could get used to.)

"About that." He coughed lightly. "You see, in order to get past security, I sort of had to buy a ticket. And, well, if you wanted me to come with you, so we could… talk," and maybe some other things (he was, after all, still Barney Stinson), "I guess I –"

"Yes," Robin said before he could finish, stepping back with a smile.

He felt himself beaming and was too happy to care how unawesome it must have made him look. "Great. Hold on just a sec." With that he dashed back to the janitor he had met before coming up to Robin.

The guy handed him his bag with grunt, and Barney responded with an enthusiastic, "Thanks, my man!"

He walked back to Robin to see her blinking at him. "You packed a bag?"

"Just in case."

She continued to blink at him. "Awfully confident of you, wasn't it?"

Barney scoffed. "Seriously, what are the odds that anybody would be able to resist this package?" He ran a hand up and down his magnificent and impressive bod, inviting her to appraise him properly. "Really?"

Robin heaved a sigh and shouldered her bag once more, heading for the line to board. "I can't believe I'm actually considering this."

"Oh, come on. It'll be fun." He caught up with her and slung an arm around her shoulder (the way Marshall always did with Lily). "I mean, we're awesome. The powers of our awesomeness combined? It'll stagger the globe."

Robin shot him a speculative glance. "I suppose."

"You suppose?" Barney shook his head, disappointed. "You obviously don't get just how awesome we are. We'll have to fix that. Get ready, Scherbatsky, I'm going to teach you how to live." He smiled at her. "With me."

She chuckled. "Are you now?"

"Yep," Barney affirmed. "And once you get those lessons down, I think we'll have something really going for us here.

"You know what, Stinson?" she mused, almost to herself, an arm twining around his waist. "I think you may be right."

Barney huffed. "I know I'm right."

"And if this whole thing works out, you know what else I think?"

He turned to her, this sexy, sophisticated woman he was ready to make his leading lady of awesome. "Hm?"

"It'll be legendary."

**END**.


End file.
